


You're The One That I Want

by Pxneapple



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Chanyeol's mom is such a sweetheart, Crack, Eventual Romance, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, charming Baekhyun is charming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:25:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pxneapple/pseuds/Pxneapple
Summary: Chanyeol is hired as a replacement guitar teacher at the Seoul Institute of Music and Performing Arts. Baekhyun is the school's top musical theatre coordinator. Chanyeol thinks Baekhyun is pretty hot, so it's quite the convenient coincidence that their departments are to collaborate on the end of year school play...(This story is basically just an excuse for me to satiate my suave!Baekhyun muse.)Also, this work waspreviously titled: "Dance All Over Your Face"(sorry for any confusion! The new title just suits the context better)





	1. A lot to take in

It wasn't exactly common practice for the Seoul Institute of Music and Performing Arts to hire new teachers. Generally, when they secured a good teacher in a position, said teacher remained at the school until they retired. It was even less common to hire someone as young and inexperienced as Chanyeol, but when your sister graduates top of her class and she has connections high up, things usually tend to work out in your favour.

Needless to say, Chanyeol was still shocked when he received an email from Junmyeon Kim, director of the visual arts department at the school, asking him to come by with his resume ASAP.

_”Hi, Chanyeol. Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable—”_

Chanyeol was perfectly happy with his day job as a music tutor. He’d never actually expressed any discomfort in his work, in fact he enjoyed it, despite the crappy pay.

_”Now, I’m aware the offer may have come somewhat out of the blue, but we’re in_ dire _need of a replacement for our last guitar teacher, Yixing Zhang, who had to suddenly leave to attend to foreign affairs—”_

Actually, the fact that his sister was even involving herself in his life like this was almost offensive! Sending application emails in his name, _behind his back_ … did she think he needed looking after? That he couldn’t afford to live comfortably through his own efforts? The sheer _gall_ of it all!

_”Of course, you’ll be receiving a full salary, despite starting so late in the term… As for how things work around here, some of the other teachers from the visual arts department will be sure to show you the ropes—”_

It was like he’d entered the Twilight Zone. All he’d been able to do during his interview was nod along dumbly with what the director had been saying, completely at a lack for words. Eventually, the conversation had been directed towards his prior accomplishments, which were _slim_ , to say the least, but it had been as if this hadn’t even bothered the man in the slightest.

_”As for your prior accomplishments, I personally feel that things written on paper don’t really say much about individuals that are established in music and the visual arts. I’m sure your performance will be stellar, considering what I’ve heard from some of your peers—“_

Ah, there it was. His _peers_. It was blatantly obvious that Yoora had had something to do with this. She’d graduated top of her class, after all, and as far as Chanyeol knew, communications fell under the visual arts. This man was in cahoots with his sister.

_”So, with all that said, I hope I’ll be seeing you Monday? 8AM sharp.” The director turned away from his computer screen to finally face a very nervous-looking Chanyeol, clasped his hands together with an eager expression._

_The question hadn’t even sounded like a question, but rather a steady assumption._

_”Err—sure.” Was all Chanyeol had managed, before offering him a small, unsure smile._

***

The first thing Chanyeol noticed after checking in with Junmyeon on Monday was just how busy the school was. It was nothing like his tutoring sessions, one-on-one with a single student, in his small recording studio that he rented near his apartment.

(Well, at least now that he was going to be working full-time and earning a steady salary, he could sell the place and stop breaking the bank like he had been for the last two years.)

Here, however, there were uniform-clad students _everywhere_ , running around without rhyme or reason, creating a vivacious, bustling atmosphere. Chanyeol, standing in the middle of the main hallway of the visual arts building, didn’t know where he should look first; at the group of students playing flutes, huddled in a corner by the lockers, another group carrying costume rails up the stairs, fallen garments left strewn all over the floor as they went, or even a girl that was practicing _solfège_ by the water fountain, effectively drowning out Chanyeol’s own thoughts with her high pitch. The whole scene had the new music teacher at a loss for words; rooted in place and staring in awe.

“It’s pretty intense, I know,” said a voice from behind him. At first, Chanyeol didn’t even notice that the person was speaking to him. Only when they placed a hand on his arm did he turn around and face them. It was another teacher. He’d seen the man on the staff list he’d been handed in his interview, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember his name.

Almost as if he had read Chanyeol’s thoughts, the man spoke again, “I’m Minseok Kim, by the way. I teach modern dance. You are…?”

Chanyeol glanced at him for a second, failing to realise that the man actually expected a reply. He did a double take before finally answering him with a flustered, “ah, pardon me—I’m Chanyeol Park. Music,” and awkwardly stretching the hand that wasn’t carrying his guitar case out for the man to shake, the sheet music and school guides he’d brought along with him almost sliding out from under his arm in the process.

Minseok offered Chanyeol a warm, welcoming smile as he shook his hand, before gently guiding Chanyeol forwards with the hand that was still braced against his shoulder blade, setting the two of them into motion as they snaked their way through the throng of milling students. They headed down the main hallway, past the stairs, before turning left and heading down another smaller, yet equally lively one. As they went, Minseok took the lead, his dyed ginger hair springing up and down with every step.

“The music department is on the third floor, but I figured I’d give you a complete tour of the place so that there are less questions later down the line,” the man was saying, though Chanyeol couldn’t say that he was fully paying attention; there was a group of ballerinas—fully clad in leotards with their hair scraped back into neat little buns—stretching outside a vast ballroom, the doors of which were thrown wide open to reveal a series of male dancers twirling about inside. They were obviously practicing a group routine, whilst the girls waited outside for their cue to join them. Mesmerised by the way they were moving so gracefully, so effortlessly that they appeared almost weightless, Chanyeol didn’t realise until it was too late that he was headed directly for a water fountain, and bumped into it rather ungracefully, starkly contrasting the beautiful dancers in the room he’d just passed.

Behind him, the girls started giggling, though they stopped when Minseok turned around to see what was up, reserving themselves to whispering in hushed tones. The teacher backtracked to where Chanyeol was standing, placed his hand back on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, though there was still a humorous undertone to his voice.

“I’ll live,” Chanyeol said, though a flush was quickly spreading from his ears, all the way down to where his neck disappeared under his button-up. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the girls, Chanyeol saw that they were already making their way into the ballroom, effectively having forgotten about his little _incident_ already. Turning back around, he rubbed sheepishly at the front of his thigh where it had slammed into the fountain.

With a soft chuckle, Minseok turned around once he was certain that Chanyeol really was okay, before resuming his tour.

***

After around an hour of just walking down hallways and popping their heads in and out of classrooms, with Minseok explaining to Chanyeol what department was where and what the various students were currently up to, they ended up in another building entirely, this one much quieter, carrying a more serious vibe than the visual arts department.

“This is the main performance hall on campus,” Minseok was explaining, “every year, we host three to five events here, ranging from fashion shows to opera performances.”

Chanyeol was struggling to take the place in. The hall was immense; it looked like a grand theatre hall, with high ceilings and intricate moulding plastered along the walls. The room was airy, and the ceiling was mapped by skylights running from one end of the building to the other, letting in the natural light from outside, completely filtering out the yellowy light coming from the wall-sconces mounted along the outside walls of the atrium-like structure.

“—we’re actually currently working on a play that the students will be performing in at the end of the semester. It’s a collaboration between all of the departments—” Minseok’s voice seeped back into Chanyeol’s head, forcing him from his musings. They were moving down a wide hall extending out the side of the atrium now. The walls were lined by a gold banister, above which hung vibrant paintings, signed posters and plaques with hand prints of famous graduates. The floor was covered by a soft, red runner, which muffled their footsteps in the echoey hall.

As they walked, Chanyeol became ever more aware of a soft strain emanating from somewhere further down the hall. As they drew closer to the source of the noise, Chanyeol was able to discern that it was actually a tune that he was vaguely familiar with. At the fork at the end of the hall, Minseok headed in the direction moving away from the sound, though Chanyeol hadn’t been listening when he’d said where to. Coming to a halt, he focused on the sound, trying to make out the tune. He was edging towards it without realising it, going down the hall in the opposite direction to Minseok until eventually he came to a pair of theatre doors that were slightly askew, revealing the source of the sound.

Hesitantly, Chanyeol looked back over his shoulder. Minseok was nowhere to be found.

_’This is a_ bad _idea’_ , a voice inside him was saying, though he paid it no heed. He definitely knew the song, and as Chanyeol peered inside the doors and caught sight of the scene unfolding on the stage down below, he remembered it immediately.

The song was from _Grease_ , a popular western movie that he had watched as a child. He was standing outside one of the balcony entrances into a fully-fledged proscenium theatre, sizeable enough to hold at least 400 people. Plush seats and huge, draping, red curtains accented the place, along with a meticulously painted ceiling with gilded accents. Down below, there were people dotted around the stage, the girls all clad in bright dresses with updos and pink jackets, with most of the guys sporting jeans and leather jackets thrown over casual T-shirts. Some of them had even slicked their hair back.

It was obviously a costume rehearsal for one of the school’s many annual performances, that much was clear. Chanyeol stared in awe as the students milled about before the next scene; there was also a band, he noted absently, with instruments strewn all over the orchestra pit. Regrettably, none of them were guitars.

Chanyeol watched on as the entire room stilled suddenly—the soft music wafting up from the speakers the only thing keeping the mood airy—when another man walked onto the stage. He was also fully clad in jeans and leather, his jacket hanging open to reveal that, unlike the rest of the male performers, he was bare chested underneath. His hair was also dyed a reddish-brown colour, which starkly contrasted the much darker hair of the rest of the assembly, and it shone under the dim stage lights, making him _literally_ stick out from the crowd. His eyes, from what Chanyeol could tell at such a distance, were dark, smouldering—maybe it was eyeliner? It lent him a menacing look that was practically _oozing_ machismo. The students all turned to stare at the man in unison, stilling completely almost like someone had pressed a button on a remote that had paused the whole scene. The moment passed just as quickly as it had come though, and soon everyone resumed what they had been doing, the echo of voices once again reverberating up into the rafters. Some of the students went over to speak to the man, who didn’t slow even for a second to listen to them as he loped across the stage, leaving them to rush along after him to remain within earshot. Chanyeol felt the sides of his lips tug up at the sight.

The group finally pinned the man down and got him to stop for a second in order to listen to them. After what seemed to Chanyeol to be some brief negotiations, they split up again and the man went over to a group of leather-clad students. The group immediately burst out laughing, presumably at something he’d said, though strain his ears as he may, Chanyeol couldn’t make out what it might have been, especially considering the fact that the music had suddenly gotten louder in preparation for the next scene. The laughter died down as the strain rose in volume, and the group seemed to get into some choreographed position, with the man—he had to be the choreographer—turning his back to Chanyeol in order to face the students, who had launched into some kind of dance routine. Lips pursed and nose scrunched up, Chanyeol watched them put on the swagger that accompanied their stage personas and launch into the act, trying to recall what part of the story they might be at—

“ _Stop!_ ” the man yelled, clapping his hands together, and this time even Chanyeol heard it. He jumped at the sudden, sharp sound, almost smacking his forehead against the doorframe he was hiding behind.

Everyone on the stage stilled, and the man directed them all around until he was standing beside one of the main performers, signalling for all present to watch him. Someone hurried backstage to rewind the track and started it from the beginning, and the man started to move.

And _boy_ , could he move.

It was just a solo segment, with some spins and struts thrown in, but Chanyeol couldn’t take his eyes off him. There was something about the way he moved so fluidly, his strides so confident as he acted out whatever part of the play they were at—Chanyeol honestly had no idea, it’d been years since he’d seen the movie; but what he did know was that whoever this choreographer was, the students were in awe of him, and maybe Chanyeol was a little, too.

He couldn’t ponder the man’s performing abilities for long though, because before he knew it, Minseok was bounding towards him, exclaiming, “ _there_ you are!” and coming to a halt behind him. “I got as far as the control room before realising you weren’t even with me anymore—!” Minseok cut himself off when he realised what (whom?) Chanyeol had been staring at, and a slow grin formed on his lips before he said, an air of reticence in his voice, “ah, I see your eyes have been graced by the great Byun Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol’s gaze narrowed at him in question. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Minseok just grinned, before turning on his heel and walking back down the hall again. “Come on, let’s finish the tour!” he urged, and Chanyeol’s brows furrowed in confusion at his evasion of the question. He didn’t bring it up again though, instead quietly picking his guitar case back up and hurrying after the shorter man.

***

The two of them didn’t spend much longer in the main performance hall after that, with Minseok deciding to skip the control booth and take Chanyeol directly back to the music department instead. When they got there, Minseok made sure to introduce Chanyeol to all his fellow music teachers, as well as some others for good measure.

“This is Do Kyungsoo. He’s a vocal coach, though he specialises in opera,” Minseok said, and Chanyeol bowed politely, offering the man a toothy smile. He was of a relatively short stature, with cropped, black hair and a mildly annoyed look on his face.

“I’m Chanyeo—” Chanyeol began, but he never got to finish the sentence because the man was already turning away, ignoring his introduction in favour of wafting his hand in the air dismissively. “I have students to coach, Minseok. Couldn’t this wait until lunch?” he asked, and Chanyeol felt a pang of despondency hit him in the chest.

“Don’t mind him,” Minseok said, “Kyungsoo’s a bit of a tough cookie, but he’s very caring once you break through his outer shell.” Despite his words, Chanyeol struggled to believe this, but he said nothing as he was instructed to leave his guitar case in the classroom for later and to follow Minseok back out again so they could finally finish their tour.

Peering in through the door to the neighbouring classroom, they were met by a group sitting on the floor, notepads in hand with their heads bowed as they furiously scribbled down notes. In a hushed voice, Minseok explained, “this is Amber Liu’s class. She teaches composition. We’re lucky that she’s bilingual, because she’s translated the entire script for the end-of-year play for us.” At that, Minseok let out a small laugh, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile at the woman that was playing around with a guitar at the back of the classroom, just past the circle of students. Upon noticing the two of them peering into the classroom, she looked up from her instrument and smiled back, her blue fringe falling into her eyes in the process.

Turning away from her, Chanyeol wondered to himself why he’d even bothered dying his hair a neutral brown to mask the unnatural grey tone it had been before. His sister had given him the impression that the school took its professional appearance extremely seriously, so naturally, Chanyeol had deemed his… eccentric choice of hair colour wildly inappropriate and dyed it back the night before his interview.

The brunette didn’t have much time to consider the unfairness of his hair-predicament however, as the lunch bell rang at that exact moment, and soon Minseok was walking back towards the stairs, beckoning for Chanyeol to follow him towards the canteen. Pouting slightly, he followed after Minseok as they followed the stream of students already heading that way.

Once in the canteen, Minseok directed Chanyeol to the self-service food counter so they could help themselves to a serving each. The place was huge; definitely big enough to fit all the students from the visual arts department in one sitting if push came to shove. There were two floors, with yet another glass ceiling that filtered in clear, natural light, washing the place in bright daylight.

As Chanyeol stood in the queue to pay with Minseok, who had insisted on covering his lunch bill _for_ him, as it was his first day there, he caught sight of a familiar figure walking in through the doors at the other end of the hall. Chanyeol was sure it was just a trick of the light though; that couldn’t be the same teacher from the theatre earlier—his name was Baekhyun, if his memory served him correctly?

No, that couldn’t be the same man as before… that man had been dark, demanding… sexy, even. This man had a tight, white button-up shirt on, tucked into a pair of blue chinos and a head of fluffy, unruly hair. A pair of round, oversized glasses topped the whole look off, giving him an almost dorky look. No, that definitely couldn’t be him, Chanyeol just hadn’t seen properly. After all, the only real similarity was the hair colour, though judging by the sheer number of teachers with dyed hair that Chanyeol had encountered thus far, it was hard to make any assumptions.

Watching the man walk over to the self-service food counter as him and Minseok had done before, he didn’t realise that the cashier was trying—and failing—to get his attention. A sudden, uncomfortable nudge to his bicep brought him back to the situation at hand, and he realised that Minseok was eying him expectantly.

“C’mon, we’re holding up the queue. Let’s go find somewhere to sit,” he said, before offering the cashier an apologetic smile on Chanyeol’s behalf and ushering the taller man to follow after him. Chanyeol opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , that might make the situation less awkward. The lady behind the till just stared at him, a calm sort of patience to her expression as the new teacher fumbled for words. Finally, he decided to just close his mouth when he realised there was nothing left for him to say, a sheepish blush creeping up his cheeks towards his temples as he followed after Minseok.

They found a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the hall. There was a beautiful view of the campus spread out outside them, the lush greenery and milling students reminding Chanyeol more of an idyllic park than a school. The only actual hint at the fact that this was a privately funded institute was the uniforms, with the school crest embroidered intricately on the sweater pocket, proudly displaying the students’ affiliation with the school. Well, that and the enormous, bronze statue of the school’s founder situated just outside the administration centre, towering a good fifteen feet over the students’ heads.

“He’s one of the best coordinators to ever grace the academy’s stage, you know,” Minseok said suddenly, around a mouthful of kimchi. “He left us for a while a few years back, but thankfully he returned. Things just weren’t the same without him.”

Chanyeol quirked a brow at him in confusion, before asking in a rather perplexed tone, “I—I’m sorry, who?”

Minseok just chuckled at him. “Baekhyun. The guy in the theatre earlier. He’s our head musical theatre coordinator. He left a while back to run his own theatre with his wife, but we eventually managed to reel him back in to work for the academy instead.”

Chanyeol felt his jaw drop before he could help himself.

_What?_

Well that was a lot to take in in one go.

The new teacher had so many questions, he didn’t even know where to begin. Thankfully, he never actually got to ask any of them, because they were suddenly joined by a group of other visual arts teachers. Chanyeol had already been introduced to most of them, though he had already forgotten the vast majority of their names, so he gladly let them take over the conversation, effectively leaving him to fade into the background for the remainder of the lunch break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I wrote this instead of studying, yay! My PC also crashed multiple times throughout, but let's calmly disregard that fact...
> 
> Thank you for reading this ~~(if you did)~~! Please leave a comment, as I'd really appreciate some feedback and/or suggestions! The probability of there being typos in this work is high, so feel free to let me know if you find any throughout. This is the first fic I've written in around two or three years, so I'm still getting back into the swing of things. I just couldn't ignore the idea I had for this plot any longer—It would _not_ stop gnawing at my brain, darn it!
> 
> Also yes, the Seoul Institute of Music and Performing Arts is completely fictional. I wanted to set the scene at a performing arts college, but the plethora of schools in South Korea confused me, so I figured I'd just make one up myself and lay out the rules according to my personal desires for the story's progression.
> 
> Finally, I'll be updating the tags as the story progresses. There is a 99.99999% chance that there will be eventual smut in this story, so if that makes you uncomfortable, heed the tags and also the notes so that you know which bits to skip. I'll write warnings in the preceding chapter notes throughout, just in case!
> 
> P.S. the title of this fic is from a Kiss song. Don't ask, because I don't even know. I couldn't think of anything better, so let's call it a working title for now.


	2. Well I'll be damned

The sound of the bell signalling the end of the lunch break came like a personal blessing for Chanyeol. He was out of his seat with his tray in hand before any of the teachers could even put down their cutlery. There was a nervous energy brewing in Chanyeol’s veins as he went to place his tray in the collection area, and he wanted nothing more than to head upstairs to his classroom and start his first class of the day.

Chanyeol didn’t explicitly _mind_ talking to his fellow educators, but there was something about being the “newbie”, the only person not in on all the _hot gossip_ , that made him feel awkward. Sure, he’d laughed along when someone had told the story about how the students that snuck around behind the media and communications building to smoke actually thought they were getting away with it, but he’d still felt out of place.

He didn’t get to dwell on the thought for long though, because soon after dropping his tray off, a loud “hey, wait up!” emanated from somewhere behind him, prompting the new teacher to spin around to seek out the source. It was Jongdae, a loud-mouthed singing teacher who specialised in jazz and swing. He had a grin on his face, along with soft, almost concerned-looking eyes framed by a mop of curly brown hair.

“Where’re you rushing off to?” he asked. “Minseok and I were just about to ask you if you wanted to walk back with us.”

Oh, okay. The tenseness in Chanyeol’s shoulders ebbed away at that, and he felt a coy smile pull at his lips, before nodding and following after the man. Minseok was waiting for them at the canteen doors, and he practically beamed when they came into view. He threw a casual arm around each of their shoulders before steering them back to the second-floor music rooms, and it left Chanyeol feeling oddly content.

Once they reached Minseok’s classroom, the first door to the right just past the stairs, Jongdae parted ways with them, waving over his shoulder as he headed down the hall and into his own classroom at the end. Once he was out of sight, Minseok turned to Chanyeol.

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand reassuringly on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. The kids aren’t too unruly.” Then, as if on cue, the bell rang a second time, announcing that class was starting.

Chanyeol smiled at Minseok and nodded as the other man headed inside his classroom. After a moment, Chanyeol threw him a quick “thanks!” before jogging down the hall to his own classroom.

The room was full of eager-looking students, most of them already sitting on stools with their guitars perched on their laps in waiting. Offering them a curt bow, Chanyeol gave them a muffled apology as he headed over to the desk pushed into the far corner of the room, picked his notes up from where he’d left them earlier. They were hidden under a pile of sheet music that he wasn’t familiar with; most of it was written in Italian, presumably from Kyungsoo’s opera class. Chanyeol had been told that he’d be sharing the other teacher’s classroom whilst the school cleared out Yixing Zhang’s former classroom for him. With the sudden change in staff, they hadn’t had the time to prepare things for Chanyeol, so for the time being, he’d just have to deal with the grumpy teacher’s indirect company.

After ordering his papers, Chanyeol flipped through the sheets briefly to gather his bearings. The students had gone quiet, all of them fixated on him, curious. There were twenty-eight students in Chanyeol’s class; less than most of the other teachers taught, thankfully. He wasn’t sure how he’d have dealt with being thrown straight in at the deep end, going from a maximum of two students to _forty_.

Somewhere in the back, one of the students coughed. Realising just how silent the room had been in the few minutes since Chanyeol had come in, he felt an embarrassed flush spread across his face, momentarily left staring blankly back at the students. He’d been so fixated on preparing for the class, that he’d forgotten to actually _start_ it.

Laughing hesitantly, each sound its own staccato beat, Chanyeol offered the students a toothy smile.

“Err—hello everybody, I’m Cha—Mr. Park,” he corrected himself, remembering the correct etiquette that Junmyeon had been so particular about in his interview. “I’m going to be taking over the class from today onwards.”

A student, the same one that had coughed, raised his hand in the back. Having completely blanked all their names, Chanyeol offered the boy a weak “yes?”, exhorting him to ask his question.

The boy stood slowly, offered Chanyeol an inquisitive glance before asking his question, “what happened to Mr. Zhang?”

Now, how was Chanyeol supposed to answer that, when he himself had no idea? All Junmyeon had told him was that the man had had to attend to foreign affairs in China.

Running a hand through his hair, Chanyeol pursed his lips as he thought of an adequate answer. Finally, he managed a tentative, “he… had to relocate suddenly.”

 _‘Great. Way to make the man sound like a criminal on the run, Chanyeol. Good job,’_ he thought, wincing upon realising just how he’d phrased it.

The boy’s eyes narrowed at him for a second, though he kept quiet, bowed, sat back down again. The class had broken out into a soft murmur at Chanyeol’s bizarre, pressure-induced choice of words, and Chanyeol was struggling to get them to quiet down.

“Hey, everyone… uh, if you could just s-settle down for a sec—” he tried, though they were no longer listening. Casting his eyes skywards, he said a silent prayer before turning resolutely and going over to the blackboard. He decided to scribble down a chord, the C-chord, before turning back to the class.

“Hey!” he tried, a little louder this time, though it was with little effect. Someone had started playing a tune on their guitar and had built up an audience in the other students.

Huffing, Chanyeol turned back to the blackboard and stared at his drawing. How could he make them listen?

Behind him, the student that was playing the guitar accidentally played a wrong note, and it sparked an idea in Chanyeol’s head. If they didn’t want to listen to _him_ , then maybe just getting them to _listen_ would be enough.

The teacher made his way over to the back of the room to where a grand piano was situated. It had a dust cover thrown over it, though he made quick work of pulling it over the keys, letting it fall onto the shut piano wing.

Seating himself down on the piano stool, he braced his fingers along the keys. The piano wasn’t his preferred choice of instrument, though he could play decently. He’d tutored his fair share of piano players, after all.

Now wasn’t the time for _decent_ , though, and as Chanyeol started playing, the students finally turned to him, completely aghast. However, Chanyeol’s playing hadn’t galvanised them into finally paying him the attention he had so desperately been seeking due to his indubitable _skill_ , but rather by his lack thereof. He was playing disjointed, terrible chord combinations, each one sounding less thought-out than the last.

Of course, the teacher was deliberately playing badly. Although really, it depended on whose opinion was being sought out. There was method to the madness, but even if the students didn’t understand that yet, the looks on their faces were worth the hassle.

After a few _painful_ moments of Chanyeol playing to the almost distraught-looking students, he stilled, stared at them.

“So,” he asked finally, offering them a more confident smile than before. “Can any of you explain what I just played?”

Getting up from the stool, he walked back to the front of the room, the heavy feeling of the students’ eyes boring into his back emboldening him even further as he went. Back at the front of the room, he leant against the blackboard, just beside his drawing, and waited.

Nobody talked. The students were staring at him like he’d lost his head. Not a single one of them had anything to say, and the feeling boosted Chanyeol’s confidence enough that he could actually answer the open question for them.

“Have any of you ever heard of augmented chords?” Again, his follow-up question was met by silence. With a small _tsk_ ing sound, he turned back to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk. “Well, even if you haven’t _heard_ of them, I’m sure some of you have played them before, perhaps without even realising it." As he was talking, he started adding embellishments to the chord. First, he wrote a small _diesis_ beside it, then scribbled the title “Caug” beneath it.

“Okay,” he said softly, before turning back to face the class. “So, as you can see, this is what an augmented C looks like. It’s pretty much the same as a C-major, except that you ‘accidentally’ play the fifth note a bit too high, so that it no longer _sounds_ like a major chord.”

The students still weren’t talking, but some of them had taken out their notepads and pencils from under their chairs and were copying what the teacher had written.

“The notes I was playing for you on the piano were all augmented. We’re going to be starting today’s class off with an introduction into them; when they’re appropriate and when they really, _really_ aren’t, as I just demonstrated,” Chanyeol earned himself a soft ripple of laughter from the class at that. It made him smile as he continued, “hopefully, by the time class is over, you’ll all be able to incorporate some into tomorrow’s lesson!”

The class offered him a short round of applause at that, and Chanyeol felt like he could melt. Sometimes, a shock to the system was all it took to garner the attention one was looking for.

As he pulled up a chair and sat in front of the class, opened his guitar case and took his own instrument out, he continued explaining various ways of implementing augmented chords without breaking any glass windows. Throughout the afternoon, the students seemed to warm up to the idea of having him as their new teacher, even asking questions and finally actively participating. The student that had been playing the tune on her guitar earlier, later introducing herself to Chanyeol as Jieun Lee, seemed to get the hang of things rather quickly, and soon she was happily helping out her classmates, leaving Chanyeol a few spare seconds to check through his schedule for the week. Aside from his guitar classes, he didn’t really have much else to do whilst his music room was being cleaned up. He’d been told to shadow some of the other teachers for a while, to see if he could take over any of their more minor roles in the foreseeable future, but aside from that it seemed that he had a steady 8AM to 4PM schedule.

Puffing his fringe out of his eyes, he peered at his students for a moment, smiling a little to himself, before getting up and commencing with the class.

***

The next day, Chanyeol barely made it to work on time. After the hassle of taking the train to the previous morning, he’d forsaken the public transport system that led to the Seoul Institute of Music and Performing Arts, instead taking his motor scooter out for a run. Having lived so close by his workplace for so long, he hardly ever got to use it anymore, so it was actually refreshing to be sitting on the hard, leather seat again and feeling the breeze on his skin.

What was not refreshing, though, was the morning traffic. Driving the short stretch between Gwangheungchang and Sangsu station alone took him almost thirty minutes! So, when the teacher finally arrived at the entrance of the visual arts building with two whole minutes to spare, it had to have been by some sort of miracle.

Helmet in hand, he took the steps two at a time as he made his way to his classroom. Just as he was about to go inside, he heard a flurried voice call from behind him, “Wait—Chanyeol, hold up!”

It was Minseok again, clad in a very serious dark-grey suit with a muted, red tie, and _shit_ , should Chanyeol have worn something else? He’d come in a pair of black jeans and a lighter, denim button down, and he’d forgotten to put in his contacts, so he was wearing a pair of besmeared, wire-framed glasses. To top it all off, his helmet had ruffled his hair on the way, so he looked more dishevelled than anything, really.

“Jesus, you walk fast,” Minseok said as he caught up at last, effectively interrupting his worrying. “I almost forgot to tell you,” the man said, his voice breathy with exertion. “We have a staff meeting this evening regarding the end of year play. I’m afraid you’ll have to attend… hopefully it won’t take as long as last year’s did—if things go well, that is…” he trailed off, mumbling the last part more so to himself than anybody.

“O-oh,” Chanyeol managed, brows furrowing slowly. “Okay. Is there anything special I need to take into account? Anything to bring along?” The last thing he wanted to do to add to his seemingly inappropriate choice of clothing for the obviously _paramount_ meeting was to come unprepared.

Minseok shook his head, but then stopped suddenly, a lightbulb apparently lighting up in his head as he instead answered with an almost frenetic voice, “ah! One thing that you absolutely _must_ remember is—”

“Hey, Minseok!” came Jongdae’s voice from where he had popped his head out of his classroom down the hall, cutting him off. “We need your help with this routine. C’mon!”

Minseok turned immediately, conversation forgotten, and clapped a hand on Chanyeol’s arm. “Oh _shoot_ , it’s important. I’ve got to run. I’m sure you’ll be fine, though! Just play it cool.” That being said, the man took off at a light jog, leaving a very perplexed Chanyeol in his wake.

 _’Play it cool, huh?’_ he thought to himself as he headed back inside his classroom. If there was one thing Chanyeol could confidently say he had not yet mastered since being in the employ of the Seoul Institute of Music and Performing Arts, it was that. Sure, confidence got him a long way, but the way he tended to lose track of his thoughts and digress had occasionally left him appearing as though he lacked concentration, or worse, interest.

So, when his lunch break rolled around, he speed-dialled his sister’s number to ask for some friendly, from-one-sibling-to-another advice.

“Ugh, Chanyeol, why are you calling me now? I’m about to go on air—”

“ _Look, could you just_ shut up _for a second?! I need to ask you something_ ,” Chanyeol whisper-hissed. They couldn’t speak in his classroom; Kyungsoo would be arriving soon to prepare for his next class. Huffing aloud, he squawked a quick “wait a second” down the line before leaving the classroom and looking around for a more secure place to talk. Trying one of the other classrooms wasn’t a possibility, he knew that much… but what about the toilets? Most of the students had already headed downstairs, anyway. They’d probably all be using the downstairs toilets over the lunch break, so it was actually a convenient solution.

Hurrying down the hall, Chanyeol peered around him before heading into the men’s room. Standing in the open room with its floor-to-ceiling tiles would echo too much, though; he didn’t want to be obtrusive. So, he walked inside a stall and locked the door, flipped the toilet lid down and perched cautiously atop it.

“Look, just make it quick,” his sister was saying. Chanyeol just rolled his eyes before finally explaining the situation to her.

“Well I don’t see how you expect me to help you,” she quipped once he was finished, and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than to reach down the line and _shake her_ —

“—so we’ll have to completely rearrange the stage layouts because of Soojung, because apparently the way the props are arranged isn’t ‘dynamic’ enough for her, whatever the hell _that_ means—” a voice said, the sound suddenly bursting into the toilets from outside. Eyes flying wide, Chanyeol managed to hiss a quick “ _shh!_ ” at his sister before he was joined by the interlopers. The teacher fell quiet as he heard them draw nearer to his stall. _Shit_ , who else would’ve especially come all the way up to the second floor toilets?

“Well you know what she’s like,” said a second voice in response to the first, chuckling softly. Chanyeol knew that voice. It was Kyungsoo. That part at least made sense. But who was he talking to? Why did the men have to walk in _now_?

“I know, but she just really _tests_ me sometimes. She thinks that, just because she has a fucking _masters_ degree in performance studies that that makes me her lapdog?”

Chanyeol heard the sound of a zipper opening, and then another, followed by a soft tinkling sound.

“Oh, come on Baekhyun, everyone knows that she respects you—”

Oh.

_Oh._

Chanyeol clasped a hand in front of his mouth to muffle his breathing. What was the theatre coordinator doing there?

Somehow, the thought of him ever coming in this building had never even dawned on Chanyeol, who jumped at the sudden sound of the urinals flushing. The toilet seat lid he was perched on squeaked softly under his weight—

“ _Hey, Chanyeol!_ Look, if you’re going to be a little bitch about this, then fine, but don’t involve me! Unlike you, I actually have to get back to work now. I’ll talk to you later.” Yoora’s staticky voice came from his phone’s speakers so loudly, the other men _had_ to have heard it. Chanyeol froze in place, utterly motionless, the only sound in the room the quiet _beeping_ emanating from his phone once, twice, three times to indicate that the call had ended.

Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow him—

But no, the moment of silence just continued, stretching out until Chanyeol felt a wave of sweat surge unpleasantly down his back. His hairs were standing on end as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. The men were obviously done with their business, so what exactly were they waiting for? Chanyeol ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up as he silently willed them to stop existing.

Of course, his wish was not to come to fruition. Instead, Kyungsoo called out, voice a mixture of confusion and general displeasure, “Chanyeol? Is that you?”

Well, it seemed the time for hiding was over. Hesitantly, Chanyeol stood, peered out over the top of the stall door at the two of them. Despite his tall stature, only the upper-half of his face was visible to them, along with his sneakers, which were peeking out from underneath the door. He was sure that, even with so little skin showing, they could tell how shamefaced he was.

“Oh—hi! Hey, Kyungsoo… and, uh, _you_ ,” he said, eyes flicking from Kyungsoo, to Baekhyun, where they lingered for a second. After another unnervingly long moment of silence, he finally unlocked the door, stepped out into the open. “Err, sorry about that. My sister called…” he trailed off, looking everywhere but the two men. Similarly to Minseok, the two of them were dressed to a tea in dapper suits and ties, with neatly styled hair to match. Unlike yesterday though, neither of them was wearing glasses (so it _had_ been Baekhyun that he’d seen in the canteen!), and they both gave off a generally more put-together vibe than Chanyeol, who was standing there with his arms awkwardly dangling at his sides.

“I can see that,” Kyungsoo eventually replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. The man beside him, Baekhyun, seemed far more enthusiastic though.

“Kyungsoo, come now. Don’t be rude—introduce me to your friend,” he said, peering at Chanyeol out the corner of his eye. The man’s voice was like molten honey; a rich sound that came from deep in his chest, though it currently held an almost teasing tone. Chanyeol felt another wave of sweat run over him.

“He’s not…” Kyungsoo started, but he seemed to think better of it, instead rephrasing, “Baekhyun, this is Chanyeol Park. He’s Yixing’s replacement.”

Again, Chanyeol felt that same pang of despondency in his chest. It seemed to be a feeling he specifically associated with Kyungsoo by this point.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the man said, placing a hand on his hip and languidly staring Chanyeol up and down. Chanyeol could feel his cheeks aflame under the attention—again, another thing he now associated with this school and the people that worked there.

Laughing nervously, Chanyeol bowed to the two of them, before bidding them both a hasty goodbye.

“Well, I’ll… catch you later, then,” he said, before backing out of the room and making a bee-line back to his classroom, completely forgetting about lunch in his post-stupor state.

***

It seemed that Chanyeol’s idea of waiting out the remainder of his lunch break in his and Kyungsoo’s classroom was taking its toll on him. As the afternoon went on, his stomach started producing steadily loudening growling noises, reminding him of just how foolish a choice it had been. By the time the last of the students had cleared out of the room, he felt like he was going to faint.

“I’ll accompany you to the meeting, if you want,” came Kyungsoo’s voice from across the room. The man had made the executive decision of not bringing up the awkward lunchtime encounter, saving face for both of them. Chanyeol hated to admit it, but he was grateful to him for it.

“Oh, right… sure, okay,” Chanyeol said, peering up at him from where he’d been stacking chairs against the back wall. Kyungsoo took that as their sign to get going and picked up a laptop bag he’d tucked away behind their shared desk that morning, before beckoning for Chanyeol to follow him. For a man of his shorter stature, he walked fast, and he had no issue keeping up with Chanyeol as they headed out of the visual arts building and across the winding, gravel pathway that connected it to the administration centre.

The building was a true architectural marvel; with rounded, cylindrical glass shapes jutting out from it on all sides, forming external walkways sloping from floor to floor. The structure looked otherworldly in the dimming evening light—the way it refracted off the glass made the shapes almost look like arms, hugging around the building protectively. It was one of the most futuristic buildings Chanyeol had ever encountered, and that was coming from someone who had grown up in the heart of Seoul.

“Hey! Kyungsoo, Chanyeol,” a familiar voice said as they neared the building’s entrance. It was Jongdae. He was clasping a steaming to-go cup of coffee tightly between his hands, and he also had a laptop bag thrown over his shoulder. Chanyeol didn’t even have a laptop. Just his iMac at home that he had used to record practice tracks for his students.

Kyungsoo waved at Jongdae as they drew closer. He had explained on the way over that they’d agreed to meet outside the building’s secondary entrance. The primary entrance was for external visitors during the day, and it faced the street just outside the campus. The secondary entrance was only intended for enrolled students and staff.

Shouldering his way inside, Jongdae held the door open for them before directing them to the lifts. There was already another group of teachers waiting there, and Chanyeol’s companions comfortably struck up conversation with them as they all stepped into the lift.

Despite the building’s outer appearances, what awaited Chanyeol in the meeting room was pretty standard. It was a large, open space, occupied by a long table that had been pushed against a wall, as well as fifty odd chairs placed about, probably last-minute. Jongdae and Kyungsoo quickly located Minseok and the other teachers from their department and manoeuvred their way over to them, Chanyeol hot on their heels. In the end, there weren’t enough seats, as the directors and department heads had been prioritised and pushed to the front, so some of the other teachers were left to sit on the windowsill or lean against the wall. Chanyeol was one of the less fortunate people that ended up having to lean against the wall at the back of the room, straining to hear the speakers at the front. One of them had introduced herself as Chaerin Lee, University Chancellor and the planning lead for their project. The other speaker had introduced himself as Sooman Lee, the founder of the school, who had flown in from Busan specifically for the meeting.

Well, that explained the suits. Everyone in the room was wearing one, save for Chanyeol, and it made him feel almost glad for his low-visibility spot in the back of the room. He was effectively hidden from the speakers’ view, despite being almost a head taller than most of the people present.

As the speakers got started with their presentation, first listing the upcoming topics for the evening, they were interrupted by the sound of the double doors to the meeting room sliding open to reveal an almost flustered-looking Baekhyun, car keys in his right hand and a large Starbucks coffee in the other. The lapels to his suit jacket were slightly askew, and his shirt looked a little creased, but aside from that, he looked just as dignified as he had earlier.

The two presenters stilled, but they didn’t react. Instead, the man, Mr. Lee, nodded towards the back of the room. Bowing, Baekhyun followed the man’s silent order, shuffling his way past the other attendees and finally finding a spot against the wall a few feet away from Chanyeol. He took a minute to set his things down, tossing the bag he’d had slung over his shoulder into a narrow gap on the windowsill between two other teachers and setting his drink beside it. He too pulled a laptop out of the bag, and Chanyeol felt himself wondering if Minseok’s advice had been perhaps a little too offhand.

Well, at least he’d brought his music notes with him. Quietly, he tapped the person seated in front of him on the shoulder, asked if he could borrow a pen. The woman offered him an almost incensed look, but she obliged, quietly bending to rummage through her handbag before pulling out a lipstick-smeared Bic Roller. Chanyeol, refraining from reacting to the grimy-looking writing utensil as he took it from her, thanked the woman silently, earning himself a dismissive wave of her hand as she turned back around to focus on the presentation.

Turning his sheet music over, Chanyeol inspected the pages until he found one that wasn’t double-sided, noted down the date at the top of the page and braced himself to start taking notes.

Absently, he took notice of a faint tittering sound from his left. Looking over out the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Baekhyun in his peripheral. The man was intently staring at his laptop, busy typing something or other, though there was a faint smile playing at his lips that he was struggling to suppress as he took a sip from his _venti_ Starbucks coffee. Chanyeol pursed his lips together at the sight, brows furrowing.

Was the musical coordinator _laughing_ at him?

Something in Chanyeol’s gut was telling him to react; to humour the man, maybe grin back at him. Then again, they were in a room full of very serious-looking teachers, and their—well, he supposed it could be considered _flirting_ —albeit covert, was totally uncalled for, especially considering the fact that the two of them had already made quite the impression on the other attendees. Between Chanyeol’s denim shirt and Baekhyun’s tardiness, it was enough shame for a lifetime. Plus, according to Minseok, the man was _married_! So, Chanyeol ignored the instinct and turned back to the front, pen steadied against his makeshift notepad in waiting.

***

The meeting droned on, it seemed, for _hours_. Chanyeol felt himself repressing yawn after yawn behind his hand as the presenters showed slide upon slide, making sure to reference every department as they meandered from one topic to the next. Chanyeol had already completely filled the back of his music sheet with hasty chicken scrawl; notes about department schedules and important check-in dates with directors, as well as thematic suggestions and a long list of the project collaborators’ names. The music and dance departments were to work closely with the theatre coordinators and technical crew to avoid the same mistakes that had happened _last year_ —not that Chanyeol knew what these mistakes actually were.

By the time the meeting was adjourned, Chanyeol had resorted to such small cacography, the words snaking up the page margins and wrapping around the rest of the text, effectively framing it, that he himself could hardly discern the words. Jongdae snorted from where he stood beside him now once he caught sight of the scribbles.

In front of them, Minseok stood then from his much more comfortable position in one of the plastic chairs, exclaimed a relieved, “ _whoo_ , Bedtime!” The lucky bugger had arrived early and managed to secure a seat before the masses of other teachers had gotten there. Chanyeol just sighed, before peering down at his watch. It was 10:43PM already; he’d been standing in the same spot for the last four hours. The thought alone made him wince.

Junmyeon walked over to them then from where he’d been sitting with the other directors at the front of the meeting room, careful not to bump into any of them as they filed out into the hallway outside through the much-too-narrow-for-the-circumstances glass doors at the far end of the room.

“So?” he asked, offering them all an encouraging smile. “Think we’ll be on top of our game this time around?” He earnt himself some muffled words of agreement from the group of teachers, who all looked the worse for wear. Seemingly happy with the reply, Junmyeon nodded and turned then, beckoning the group to follow him out after the masses of other teachers. They were on the 14th floor, and even just the thought of having to walk all the way over to the _lifts_ made Chanyeol cringe, let alone having to wait in one of the long queues lining up to them.

However, as it turned out, pretty much the entire group of visual arts teachers had collectively decided to just grin and bear it and walk all the way down to the ground floor through one of the extruding, glass walkways. Chanyeol felt a protestive whine rising in his throat, but he willed it down as he reluctantly followed after the group as they headed out into one of the winding, glass shafts leading downwards.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” came a voice from behind him once they were a few floors in. Turning around, Chanyeol was surprised to see that it was Baekhyun. His suit jacket was still a little dishevelled, and some of his hair had fallen out of its neatly combed-back style and into his eyes. However, unlike the rest of the group, he looked rather chirpy—though, if his now-empty cup of espresso was anything to go by, Chanyeol was going to assume that his good mood hadn’t occurred entirely naturally.

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asked, peering at him curiously. After a moment’s delay, he slowed down a little so they could walk next to each other.

“I fucking hate these stupid _tunnel-things_ ,” came Baekhyun’s reply. “I tell you, whoever they hired to build this place is a terrorist and should be locked up.” His affected words had Chanyeol tittering quietly. Despite his sprightly outward demeaner, Baekhyun sounded jittery, and his eyes were fixated on the glass ceiling, consciously avoiding the long drop below them. Even the floors of the tunnels were glass, so it really was, for all intents and purposes, like being suspended 100 feet above ground.

Chanyeol smirked then. “Are you afraid of heights?” he asked, catching the way Baekhyun’s shoulders drew together at the word “heights”. In an almost indignant tone, the man gave him a bout of caustic side-eye, answered, “pfft, don’t be absurd,” which made Chanyeol’s smile widen even further, despite his best efforts to act nonchalant. 

Chanyeol wasn’t left floundering for long, though. “So,” came Baekhyun’s voice, demanding attention as it gripped at Chanyeol’s consciousness like a vice. Chanyeol could hear the smile in the man’s tone before he saw it as he countered, “not a fan of decorum?”

A blush crept its way onto Chanyeol’s face at that. He could feel his palms becoming clammy at the comment. The rest of the group was a few paces ahead of them, rapt in some conversation of their own about a particular piece of choreography. The lack of other people surrounding them just made Chanyeol’s reaction all the more obvious as he turned away from Baekhyun to instead stare out the glass walkway at the view down below. The teacher had managed to get through the entire day without having to deal with any comments on his poor choice of attire—until now. The sly, almost playfully confrontational tone in Baekhyun’s voice had his heart pounding with embarrassment-fuelled adrenaline. He tried his best to ignore it though, instead answering Baekhyun in a similar manner.

“So,” he said. “Not a fan of punctuality?” Despite his intrepidly pointed choice of words, his voice came out hoarse, uneven in tone. Baekhyun just laughed, shaking his head. Absently, Chanyeol noticed just how lovely the man’s smile was. It was wide and boxy, backed up by a set of perfect teeth—

Wait, was Chanyeol really fixating on Baekhyun’s _smile_? His mind suddenly seemed void of any other thoughts as he peered at the man, who was quietly walking alongside him, eyes still roaming about the ceiling above them.

Chanyeol didn’t notice that the two of them had fallen silent until they reached the ground floor and regrouped with everyone else. He was about to turn and say something to Baekhyun, perhaps “goodbye”, or “thanks for walking down with me”—he honestly didn’t quite know himself—when a woman walked up to them, arms thrown wide and smiling brilliantly.

“Baekhyunnie! _There_ you are; I’ve been looking all over for you!” she exclaimed dramatically. Baekhyun muttered a gruff “ _shit_ ” under his breath before she was on top of him, wrapping her hands around him and pulling him into a tight bear-hug. There was an uncomfortable expression on Baekhyun’s face as he lightly patted her on the back with one hand.

“Soojung, hi…” he mumbled. Pulling away, he offered her a small smile—a fake one, Chanyeol noted, now that he’d seen what the real-deal looked like—and a pleasant laugh, all traces of his previous expression wiped clean off his face. Placing a hand on the small of the woman’s back, he urged her towards the doors. He turned to peer at Chanyeol behind her, mouthed, “I’ll catch you round,” and winked—did he _really_ just do that?!—before hurriedly following after his new companion. Chanyeol watched them go, an eyebrow quirked and his blush from before creeping back up his face, before finally heading over to the other visual arts teachers where they were standing near the exit to bid them goodbye.

“Ah! Chanyeol,” said Junmyeon upon his arrival. “We were just talking about you.” Behind him, Chanyeol could see Jongdae and Amber smirking at him. He pointedly ignored them, instead focusing on what Junmyeon was telling him, though the blush sitting high on his cheekbones did little to appease their snickering.

“I need you and Amber to come in early to check in with the theatre department tomorrow morning. 7AM works for you, I’m assuming? There’s been a rework in the choreography, so we need the two of you to rework the musical accompaniment,” Junmyeon said, and despite having to set his alarm back an hour, Chanyeol didn’t seem to mind the new arrangement all that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annyeongggg! I realise that I got a little technical with all the music stuff in this chapter, but I just really like, well, _music stuff_. So yeah… sorry about that part.
> 
> Also, I was listening to Baekhyun's song "Young" (because ummm SMtown and aOmg collabs? hell yeah) and I kept getting distracted by his otherworldly beauty ~~and those fucking bEIGE CHINOS LIKE WTF~~ , so I'm sorry if certain parts of this chapter seem… disjointed? I was a little absent-minded when I was writing. *nervous laughter*
> 
> Anyway, aside from that, please let me know if you found any weird shit dotted about, and feel free to leave suggestions for the story in the comments! What will happen when Chanyeol goes to the theatre? Will the subtle flirting become more overt? Will _someone_ make a move already?! Let me know what you're feeling! Comments really help me piece this story together. :3
> 
> P.S. I'm a prime typo-culprit, so if indeed you do find me guilty as charged, I'd really appreciate you letting me know!
> 
> P.P.S. This chapter ended up being a little longer than the first. Apologies if it comes across as long-winded at times!
> 
> So yeah! That's all, folks! I'll catch you later. ;)


	3. Purely coincidental

As it turned out, Soojung was Baekhyun’s female counterpart. They were both employed as theatre coordinators, except that Baekhyun preferred a more hands-on approach to coaching the students to Soojung’s more reserved method of _observing, assessing, and rearranging_ , as she’d put it.

Chanyeol watched with wide, curious eyes as they bickered on stage. He’d come in early, as requested, to work on the new music for the play, only to be met by an exasperated-looking Amber pacing outside the theatre doors.

“They’re arguing,” she’d said to Chanyeol in lieu of a greeting upon spotting him. Chanyeol hadn’t understood until she’d opened the doors, giving him a chance to take the scene in himself:

_Baekhyun and Soojung had been standing centre stage, with props strewn all around them, practically _screaming_ at each other. It had made for quite the stark difference to their tight-lipped, mild-mannered dynamics the previous night._

_Amber had then led Chanyeol down the auditorium rows and into a seat in the front row. There were a few dreary-eyed students already seated there, slumped down in their seats in an attempt to disappear from view._

_“Verdict?” Amber asked them as she sank down into the seat between them and Chanyeol._

_“An hour and forty minutes,” one of them deadpanned, looking at his watch. The other student just grunted in agreement._

_“I-I’m sorry, what exactly is going on?” Chanyeol asked hesitantly from his seat beside Amber._

_The teacher turned to face him, hands fidgeting anxiously where they were stuffed inside the wide front pocket of her hoodie, before she answered, “oh, no, I was just asking how long they’ve been fighting for. Sehun and Jongin are playing two of the main leads in the play, so they got here early to rehearse, but they’ve been stuck here since they arrived.”_

_Chanyeol just nodded in agreement, before his eyes were forced back to the two bickering teachers on the stage as their volume slowly started to flood the vast, empty space within the proscenium theatre, echoing off the high ceilings and walls._

_“—then maybe you should have _told_ me that they were struggling with the choreography!” Soojung was screaming. Chanyeol grimaced at the shrill sound and ducked down in his seat, effectively emulating the two students to Amber’s left._

_“Well how are we supposed to improve when you’re busy taking up the whole stage?” muttered the boy—Sehun—directly beside Amber. She lightly slapped him on the arm, silently pressing him to shut up. His classmate let out a quiet snort at that, though he also fell quiet when Amber offered him a pointed glare._

_“How am I supposed to tell you something like that when you’re too busy ranting about fucking _stage props_?!” came Baekhyun’s enraged reply. His voice was far more levelled than Soojung’s, but he still managed to sound intimidatingly angry._

_“If Taeyeon were still here, she’d have this all under wraps by now—” Soojung began, ignoring his question, but she never managed to finish her sentence because Baekhyun was suddenly advancing on her with a vexed expression, the likes of which Chanyeol had never seen before._

_“Don’t you _dare_ bring her into this!” he bellowed then, voice finally raising to meet Soojung’s own, startling the duo’s small audience. Chanyeol’s eyes went wide at the outburst, completely transfixed on the man. He looked almost scary like this; chest puffed out with his hands balled into fists at his sides, the veins in his arms cording furiously all the way up and under his T-shirt sleeves. He was staring Soojung down, towering over her due to their proximity, and it made her seem very small suddenly; almost powerless, like an antelope that had just been spotted by a lion._

_The man’s different sides seemed practically paradoxical. How could someone go from a leather-clad, sex-on-legs stage foreman that screamed machismo like he’d been when Chanyeol had first encountered him, to a dorky, unremarkable teacher like the one he’d later appeared as for a fleeting moment in the canteen, all the way to the flustered, dishevelled mess he’d been at the meeting the previous evening—and now to _this_? The hostility on his face now, the way his eyes gleamed with anger; it didn’t suit him. It made Chanyeol feel anxious, like anything anyone did now could set him off, push him even _further_. The true extent of Baekhyun’s anger was unclear to Chanyeol, but he looked like he was about to explode any second, and Chanyeol didn’t want to bear witness to it._

_Soojung looked like she was about to say something back, but a voice from the backstage area cut her off before she could. It sounded like it might be Jongdae, but Chanyeol couldn’t tell._

_“If the two of you would just settle down—” it began, but was halted rather abruptly by the two teachers as they yelled “ _shut up!_ ” in unison, once again jolting the small group in the audience._

_Amber stood up then, finally losing her well-kept temper as she replied in an annoyed tone, “no, _you two_ need to shut up! Otherwise we’ll never resolve this and—”_

_She was cut off mid-sentence by Soojung, the coordinator’s arms flying up in exasperation as she exclaimed, “oh, no, no, no; _you_ —” and she turned to Amber then, pointing a disdainful glare at her, “—don’t get to butt in! You’ve been of absolutely no help all morning!”_

_Amber went very still at that, obviously hurt by Soojung’s harsh words. Beside Soojung, Baekhyun was giving the woman an incredulous look. He took a step back, away from her, and just looked at her for a second, seemingly also taken aback by what she had just said._

_Finally, he seemed to collect his thoughts, said “you’re not the _grande dame_ of this production, Soojung! We aren’t your lackeys! We’re _equals; so we either work together, or this doesn’t work at all.”

Soojung didn’t protest at that. Instead, she kept quiet. Her eyes were searching Baekhyun’s face, as if they were looking for some surreptitious detail that might be hidden there. Eventually though, it seemed that she gave up on whatever she was looking for, threw an exasperated “hmph!” at her co-coordinator and stomped off the stage towards the backstage area, her heels tapping furiously as she went.

Once she was out of ear-shot, Amber finally sprung back to life. She swung herself up onto the stage in one smooth movement and walked over to Baekhyun, exclaimed, “can you _believe_ what she just said to me?!”

He didn’t answer her, though. His face had gone blank, utterly void of emotion as he turned away from the group and walked towards the stage exit opposite to the one Soojung had just left through. There, he picked up a water bottle from where it stood just off stage. The group remained quiet, still wide-eyed and staring as he unscrewed the lid and took a sip. The sound of the water sloshing as Baekhyun drank filled the almost deafening silence in the room. It sounded unreasonably loud to Chanyeol, considering just how far across the stage the man was standing.

Once the bottle was half-empty, Baekhyun turned back around to them. The strange expression from before was gone, instead replaced by a firm, authoritarian stare that was directed towards the two students to Chanyeol’s left.

“Well?” he called to them. “What are you waiting for? Get this mess cleaned up and start rehearsing.” The boys didn’t need to be told twice. Leaping up from their seats, they made haste in relocating to the stage.

Once the two coordinators had separated for a while though, things seemed to have settled down. Soojung had resorted to helping the two students get to grips with the choreography—with Jongdae supplying the backing music for them from the control room backstage—whilst Baekhyun focused on reworking the music score with Amber and Chanyeol down in the orchestra pit. Thankfully, Chanyeol was now equipped with proper writing material, so he could quietly jot down notes as the two of them threw ideas at him, occasionally glancing over at where the students were working through the choreography on stage.

Despite the now-focused atmosphere, Chanyeol was finding it a little hard to come up with musical concepts and reworks for a piece he was so unfamiliar with. The fact that he was in such close proximity to Baekhyun wasn’t helping, either. The man was dressed relatively casually today, in a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt, and his hair was back to its natural, fluffy state. Chanyeol found himself wanting to reach up and smooth the locks down for him where they stuck out around his head in a bright, auburn, wavy halo—

Thankfully, his sudden _inappropriate urge_ to touch the coordinator was interrupted by a thoroughly worn-looking Amber, who had apparently decided they’d concentrated for long enough. Straightening where she was perched against the conductor’s stand, she clapped her hands together and called, “okay! Jongdae, cut the music. I need a smoke break.”

The two students on stage perked up at that—despite the disapproving look Soojung gave them—and after a few codswallop-excuses directed at the coordinator, they hurried after Amber, already pulling their cigarettes out of their respective pockets. Chanyeol quirked a brow at the sight, before heaving a sigh of relief. He’d been hunched over his notes for too long already, his shoulders were so tense he could feel a crick forming; he could definitely also do with a break, if only to process everything they’d already discussed that morning.

Standing up from his seat, Chanyeol stretched his arms over his head, his back cracking satisfactorily. His could feel his shirt riding up a little with the movement, and he hastily dropped his arms again in the hopes that it went unnoticed, before making his way out of the orchestra pit and heading up onto the stage. He could feel a pair of eyes on his back as he went, and it made a light blush creep onto his cheeks, though he pointedly paid the feeling no heed as he decided that he’d better finally take the chance to check out the control room if he was to spend any long periods of time there during the actual live production.

As he made his way onto the stage, it dawned on him that he was leaving Soojung and Baekhyun alone together. The thought made him still for a second, one foot already braced on the bottom step leading up to the stage.

Was that really a good idea after the way they’d been at each other’s throats earlier?

Well, it probably wasn’t, but they were both adults; they knew not to start an actual fight in a school. Or at least, that was what Chanyeol was going to tell himself. Brows furrowed decisively, he shook his head free of the thought, made his way up the stairs and into the backstage area.

***

Chanyeol quickly learnt that the backstage area was less so an area than it was an _unnavigable maze_. He had never seen a space so narrow packed so full of odds and ends; there were stage props lining the walls, worn from repeated use, the colours flaking, and tables, chairs—even a king bed!—scattered about, making Chanyeol draw his shoulders together to squeeze past them as he went. To top it all off, an array of disused light fixtures hung from the ceiling beams, the lampshades varying in size and hang, and as the light from the auditorium slowly faded into darkness and Chanyeol’s vision became impeded, he banged his head into a few of them, wincing pitiably each time.

Eventually, it became so dark that he could barely see anything at all. Huffing, Chanyeol resorted to scrabbling about with his arms extended out in front of him, feeling around for any obstacles that may be obstructing the path ahead as he edged his way forwards.

Unfortunately, due to his height, he missed the old piano that was jutting out a few inches below his hands where it had been shoved against the wall, and walked straight into it, his hip slamming painfully into the edge of the side-arm, forcing a drawn-out wail from him.

“Ah,” came a voice then. Jongdae. “I see you also couldn’t find the light switch.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol wheezed where he was bent over with one hand braced against the piano, the other rubbing at his hip. “Where _are_ you?!” he called out, his voice echoing off the various items of furniture crowding the cramped space.

Instead of receiving an answer, Chanyeol instead saw a light turn on in a room a short way ahead of him. It framed Jongdae’s silhouette where he was leaning against the doorframe as it seeped out into the dark passageway.

“Listen, you _almost_ made it. Pretty good for someone who’s never had to navigate the backstage before,” Jongdae said as Chanyeol navigated his way over, careful not to knock into anything else as he reached him. “Shame on Minseok for not showing it to you on your first day,” he added in a mock-disapproval.

The control room was considerably less cramped than the walkway that led up to it, despite its small scale; there were cabinets lining the far wall, probably to hold a variety of recording equipment, and there were some music stands in the corner. As Chanyeol spun around to take the room in, he noticed a set of swivel chairs standing in front of a huge mixing console lining the entire stretch of the right wall, the likes of which Chanyeol had never seen before. He let out a low whistle, before walking over to inspect it. Each slider, switch and button had a little label taped neatly below it, stating exactly what it was for. The console controlled everything; the entire theatre’s sound reinforcement system, by the looks of things—as well as the stage spotlights, and even the sconces lining the house walkways. Plus, there was a small recording studio set up in an antechamber on the other side of the room, which was also controlled from the console. Chanyeol stared with wide eyes as he took it all in.

“She’s quite a sight,” Jongdae said behind him, and Chanyeol had to force his eyes away from the console to turn to him, the look of awe never still plastered across his face. He’d always dreamt of owning his own mixing console, though he’d never had the funds to actually finance said dream.

“This is amazing,” he said, running a hand along the main mixing board.

Jongdae chuckled at that. “Well,” he said, his tone turning thoughtful. “Maybe if you’re _good_ , I’ll let you play around with it sometime. I’m not directly responsible for the sound engineering here, but I know the guys that are… I could pull some strings.”

Before they could start discussing any further though, Amber appeared in the doorway to the small room, looking significantly less tense than she had earlier.

“Guys, we’ll have to continue tomorrow,” she announced. “The bell’s about to ring, this place will be swarming with performing arts students soon, and technically we’re the ones intruding on their turf.”

Chanyeol pouted at that, but he followed after her with Jongdae hot on his heels as they all headed back out onto the stage. Instead of being greeted by a horde of theatre students though, they were presented by an even livelier scene; Baekhyun and Soojung were standing together in the orchestra pit, nearly toppling over with laughter, having to grab onto each other to support themselves. There seemed to be very little context to their sudden outburst this time, and Chanyeol found it hard to take his eyes off of them, stopping dead in his tracks as he stared at them, taken aback by the sudden change.

Jongdae, not having registered that Chanyeol had stopped moving, walked straight into his back. The gesture was almost comical as he yelped, before exclaiming, “Jesus, Chanyeol, watch it—”

He cut himself off when he realised what Chanyeol was staring at. Snorting softly, the teacher shook his head, before muttering, “that’s just how they are. It’s probably because of their extra-curricular familiarity.”

 _’Extra-curricular familiarity’_? What was that supposed to mean?

Chanyeol kept his eyes on them as he jolted back into motion, almost falling down the stage stairs as a result. A chuckle from Jongdae followed, accompanied by a light-hearted, “hey, staring’s rude. Let’s get moving, lover boy.” Chanyeol felt himself blush all the way up to his ears at the term “lover boy”, and wondered cringingly if he had perhaps been a little too obvious in his actions. The thought had him turning away from the coordinators so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash as he dashed after Amber and out of the theatre.

Thankfully, the students milling about outside served as the perfect distraction as they made their way back to the visual arts building, and Chanyeol soon found himself flipping through his notes to busy his hands with the lack of conversation being stricken up.

Just as he was attempting to decipher a particularly illegible scribble, Amber spoke up from beside him.

“So, have you got any solid ideas already for the rework?” she asked. Chanyeol turned to look at her, his lips drawing into a thin line, before shaking his head _no_.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. If you need inspiration, I think the film department has the original somewhere in their archives. Just go ask them if you can borrow it.” She offered him an encouraging smile.

“Ah, sure…” Chanyeol said a little hesitantly. He’d already forgotten where the film department was. Thankfully he had a longer lunchbreak on Wednesdays, so he could probably go look for it then. “Thanks,” he added quietly, though it fell on deaf ears as Amber had already turned to Jongdae to discuss something about the theatre’s speaker system.

***

It turned out that the film archives were situated in the basement of the visual arts building. The film department itself was spread out over three or four buildings, encompassing both videography and acting, which resulted in Chanyeol spending the best part of an hour running all over campus in search of a singular film _building_ , only to learn that it apparently didn’t exist, and that his target was only two floors below his own classroom.

Now, he was sweating and looking the worse for wear, having resorted to tying his flannel shirt around his waist with his undershirt’s sleeves hiked up to his elbows. He felt a little awkward with all his tattoos on display on a school campus, but his pride had taken second place for the time being. Hell, he’d have rolled his jeans up as well, if they hadn’t been so tight.

His hair was matted against his forehead by the time that he finally arrived at the small desk in front of the film archive’s doors. There was a very small, elderly woman sitting behind it, reading a foreign magazine.

“Excuse me,” Chanyeol croaked, his voice hoarse from all the running around.

“Mmh?” said the woman, not bothering to look up from her magazine.

Chanyeol hesitated for a moment, taking note of her general disinterest in helping him—or probably anyone, for that matter—before asking, “w-well, I was wondering if you have the movie ‘Grease’? I’m working on the school play and I really need to—”

“Someone already borrowed it,” she deadpanned, flipping to the next page in the booklet.

Chanyeol’s brows furrowed at that. “Well, who was it? Maybe I could ask them if they could lend it to me. It’s pretty important.”

The woman looked up at him then over the rim of her reading glasses. “It was some young thespian— _ah!_ That good-looking coordinator. I don’t know his name.”

Ah.

_Ahhhhh._

“O-oh… thank you for your help, ma’am,” Chanyeol managed. The hairs on the nape of his neck were standing on end, and he’d started sweating again, despite the cool air filtering into the basement through the air vent above their heads.

“Mmh,” said the woman in response, before peering back down at her magazine, Chanyeol’s presence already long-forgotten as she flipped to the next page.

Regardless, Chanyeol offered her a curt bow before hasting back upstairs and making a bee-line for the canteen. Of _course_ it was Baekhyun that had borrowed the film, he’d been working on the theatrical adaptation since before Chanyeol had even been in the school’s employ. However, after how awkward Chanyeol had been earlier, what with all the _obvious staring_ , he was rather hesitant to ask the man if he could borrow it.

Heaving a sigh, Chanyeol kept his head down as he selected a sandwich from one of the multideck chillers lining the till, stood in line to pay.

As if on cue, a familiar pair of jeans-clad legs walked past him then, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but look up as Baekhyun cut the queue in front of him.

“H-hey, you can’t just cut the queue like that,” Chanyeol whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Sure I can, seeing as I’m the one paying. Eat with me?” he said, reaching over to pull Chanyeol’s sandwich out of his now rather clammy hand, before stretching past him to grab one for himself out of the chiller behind them, his bicep flexing with the movement where it poked out of his sleeve.

Chanyeol actually choked on his own spit. He wanted to protest, to refuse the offer— _’this is a_ married man _flirting with you! Stand up for your morals, Chanyeol Park!’_ —but he somehow found himself unable to do much more than sputter unintelligibly as he watched Baekhyun pull out a ₩5000 note and hand it to the cashier with a familiar smile, which she returned in kind as she handed him his change. The man turned back to Chanyeol then, beckoning for him to follow after him. Chanyeol wordlessly complied, letting himself be led over to a free table in the far corner of the room. They weren’t sitting with any of the other teachers, Chanyeol noticed as he seated himself a safe distance away from his rather amused-looking new _lunch-buddy_. Sure, most of the teachers had already headed back to their classrooms to prepare for their afternoon classes, but he could see Kyungsoo and Soojung sitting together with some teachers from other departments at a table by the windows; Baekhyun had quite obviously intentionally steered clear of them, and Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his nerves tingled at the thought.

“You know, you’re pretty physically awkward for someone who works in the performing arts,” Baekhyun said then, eying up the list of ingredients on his sandwich’s wrapper before delicately peeling it open.

Was the man deliberately flustering him, or was it just a God-given gift that he had no control over?

Chanyeol stared at him for a second, blinking, before he finally managed to formulate his thoughts into words.

“W-well, I’ve really only ever been good with instruments. I never studied any other visual arts or anything,” he said, before tearing his eyes away from Baekhyun to finally start eating his own sandwich, which Baekhyun had placed on the table in front of Chanyeol for him.

“What do you play?” Baekhyun asked around a mouthful. Chanyeol could feel the man’s eyes on him, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze with his own. This whole thing felt oddly intimate for a lunch break in a canteen, and Chanyeol didn’t know what to make of the sudden flurry of questions, or the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach that had come about as a result of said questions.

“Ah, I teach guitar, so obviously… the guitar,” he answered, cringing internally at how inarticulately the words had come out before continuing. “I also play the drums, djembe, bass… and the piano.”

Baekhyun stilled at that, and the sudden lack of a witty answer had Chanyeol confused. Peering up at the man, he saw that he was grinning.

“What?” Chanyeol asked softly, a confused smile on his face behind his sandwich where he held it to his lips, his hand frozen mid-air.

“No, nothing. I just wouldn’t have taken you for a piano player…” Baekhyun said, leaning back in what Chanyeol thought was an impossibly cool way, considering that they were sitting on a _canteen bench_. “I guess you’ll have to show me sometime.”

Chanyeol had always been shy about the piano. Whilst he usually strayed more towards genres like rock and pop with his other instruments, he preferred more mellow tunes for the piano. Most of the ones he knew were about love and heartbreak, and somehow the prospect of playing anything like that for Baekhyun seemed awfully… well, _intimate_. The thought had Chanyeol averting his eyes again, his face burning.

“So what about you, then? Since when do theatre coordinators also dress up for costume rehearsals? Or is it just part of your ‘hands-on’ methodology?” he said, changing the subject a little less smoothly than he had hoped for. It was something he had been wondering for a while, though.

Baekhyun snorted at that, before leaning forwards to rest his elbows on the table, rest his head in his hands.

“I was standing in for a sick student. Nobody else knew his part of the routine, so there wasn’t really much choice in the matter.”

Chanyeol eyed him suspiciously at that. “And the not wearing a shirt part?” he asked. “Was that also a mandatory aspect of the role, or a personal touch?”

Now Baekhyun was the one looking away. “Well, the fashion department custom-tailors the students’ costumes, and unfortunately I’m a little _broader_ than the student I was standing in for, so I guess it was both…? I had to improvise.”

Chanyeol was about to ask why Baekhyun didn’t just call off the costume rehearsal until the student returned, when the bell rang. Baekhyun seemed pretty happy with this, and he offered Chanyeol a triumphant smile before saying, “ah, saved by the bell. I’ll catch you later, _maestro_.” He added with a wink.

“I—” Chanyeol began, but Baekhyun was already heading towards the doors, leaving a very bemused Chanyeol staring after him.

***

The next day, Chanyeol was reading through some sheet music at the desk in his and Kyungsoo’s shared classroom during one of the other teacher’s classes, when he suddenly became aware of the fact that he’d completely forgotten to ask Baekhyun about borrowing the Grease film from him. Hesitantly, he asked Kyungsoo if he knew where Baekhyun was, only to find out that the coordinator didn’t teach on Thursdays, instead part-timing at Jeongdong theatre. It had initially brought him some comfort that he got to wait an extra day before asking him, though it had also allowed for his nerves to build in the meantime. By the time Friday morning rolled around, Chanyeol was so out of it that he accidentally went to work with his T-Shirt on back to front, only realising once Amber subtly pointed out during one of her classes—he’d been instructed to shadow her for the morning—that not only was his label _showing_ , but it was doing so on the _wrong side of his body_.

Once the class had broken up for the morning break and Chanyeol had stopped feeling like a complete ass, she asked him to accompany her outside for a smoke break. Chanyeol, eager for a moment’s time to work on his _game plan_ , had been only too happy to agree, gladly following her to the smoking area near the academy’s car park.

The two of them ended up standing in silence, Amber preoccupying herself with puffing perfect vapour circles from her e-cigarette, whilst Chanyeol brooded about his _rework-predicament_.

“You know, it’s okay to be nervous about the rework,” she said suddenly through a cloud of vapour, drawing Chanyeol out of his thoughts. “I was nervous about translating the play, but there were always people around to encourage me. You’ll figure it out eventually, I’m sure of it.”

Chanyeol thanked her softly, though her words did little to comfort him. Due to the sheer amount of people involved in the production, he had to accommodate a variety of different tastes, as well as excise the right parts and only leave the most significant songs in, in order to cut down on the play’s length as deftly as possible. According to the most recent full rehearsal, the play was around three hours long, which was pushing it, so it had been collectively decided that Chanyeol was to find a way cut down on the number of musical interludes. However, due to his lack of familiarity with the play’s actual _subject matter_ , he was struggling to make the cut. 

Just when the two of them were about to head back inside for the next class, Chanyeol caught sight of Baekhyun heading towards the campus parking. Turning to Amber, he offered her a quick “sorry, I’ll be back in a second!” before rushing off after him.

“Hey, Baekhyun! Wait,” he called, finally catching up to the man inside the garage. Baekhyun slowed, turned around to him, puzzled. His face broke gently into a smile as Chanyeol approached him.

“Already missing me?” he said in greeting, twirling his car keys around his finger. Chanyeol furrowed his brows at him.

“I needed to ask you something,” he gasped at last, still a little out of breath. He raised his hand to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck, before offering Baekhyun a pleading smile.

“I’m all ears,” said Baekhyun, before readjusting his satchel on his shoulder. He was dressed in a full suit again, and Chanyeol wondered for a split second if he was perhaps holding him up from something important.

“Well, I found out that the school has the original movie from the play we’re working on, but when I went to borrow it from the archives, I was told that you’d already taken it… so I was just wondering if you could maybe lend it to me.”

Baekhyun nodded, before moving to the side a little as a car drove past them.

“I left it at home, sorry.” He said, offering Chanyeol an apologetic look.

“Oh, that’s not a problem… could you bring it for me on Monday, then?”

Baekhyun sighed at that, casting his eyes skyward before answering, “unfortunately not. Soojung and I are taking our senior year on an end-of-year field trip to the Seoul Arts Centre.”

Chanyeol frowned, confused. “But it’s April,” he said, though it came out as more of a question.

Baekhyun just shrugged at him, “Hey, I don’t make the rules. This is the only time slot we were given, unfortun—” the man cut himself off mid-word. Chanyeol could practically see the lightbulb turn on above his head.

“Or—” he said, and this time he looked a little hesitant himself, “—you could always come by tomorrow to get it?”

Chanyeol stilled at that. Had Baekhyun really just invited him to his _house_? The prospect of ever seeing the man outside of work seemed like a huge taboo; he was married, and yet he actively flirted with Chanyeol, and whilst Chanyeol would probably eventually have to admit to himself that he had the _world’s biggest crush_ on the man, he did not want to become a homewrecker.

“Err… well, if your wife doesn’t mind?” Chanyeol managed, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

Baekhyun offered him a very strange look then, and Chanyeol was about to come up with some sort of apology—perhaps Baekhyun didn’t like talking about his personal life at work?—when the man suddenly burst out laughing; that same, lovely sound from after the meeting on Tuesday filling Chanyeol’s brain to capacity—

“No, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun managed between breaths. “I certainly think she won’t.” Chanyeol found himself nervously laughing along with him, still not fully understanding, though he didn’t protest when Baekhyun rattled off his address to him, which Chanyeol noted down in his phone, before bidding the new teacher goodbye and heading off to his car.

Chanyeol stood and watched him for a minute as the man unlocked his car—an expensive-looking Audi—remotely, got in. A moment later the lights turned on, and he was reversing out of the parking space and driving off. Heaving a sigh, Chanyeol also turned and exited the garage, headed back to Amber’s classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mood whilst writing this chapter:
> 
>   
> _\- heavy eyerolling at my ineptitude -_
> 
> M A N, I really struggled with the beginning of this chapter! Baekhyun and Soojung have a very complex relationship in this AU and I really wanted to successfully portray that, so I ended up spending like 80% of the time I invested into this chapter purely on the **_first scene_** lmao. Rip meeee
> 
> Aaaalso, I would like to point out these two short clips of Baekhyun on my Tumblr:
> 
> [Post Nr. 1 (with context)](http://wherekoreanboysfly.tumblr.com/post/184359702008/the-e%E2%84%93yxion-in-seoul-just-look-at-baekhyuns)
> 
> [And post Nr. 2 (just Baekhyunnie)](http://wherekoreanboysfly.tumblr.com/post/184359742249/the-e%E2%84%93yxion-in-seoul-just-look-at-baekhyuns)
> 
> because his expressions there are just IT for me. Like that is the EXACT vibe i am going for with him in this fic.
> 
> yOU'RE **SO** WELCOME.
> 
> Also, as always, please leave a comment! They really help me, both motivation and inspiration-wise. Plus, if you find any typos or whatnot, feel free to let me know!
> 
> ~~And some kudos wouldn't hurt either but you know no pressure or anything~~
> 
> P.S. Next week's update might be a little delayed—I'm going back to school tomorrow after a two week break, so depending on the workload, you may have to hold out for a little. Sorry!


	4. Hannam-dong

It was barely 8AM when Chanyeol’s mother decided to wake him, with a hand braced gently against his shoulder, softly shaking it. He’d fallen asleep at his desk the previous night, so caught up in the notes for his musical rework that he hadn’t even managed to take his glasses off before sleep caught him.

“Chanyeol, sweetie, wake up. You can’t sleep like this,” she said. Chanyeol just groaned in response, burrowing his face further into the crook of his elbow where his arm rested on his desk. Smiling softly, Youngmi rubbed her thumb along his hairline, before adding, “weren’t you supposed to head to your friend’s house today?”

Chanyeol’s eyes flew open at that. “Ah! _Shit_ ,” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “What time is it?!” he asked, his voice cracking with agitation as he spun around to face his mother. His hands gripped at her arms as he bent to meet her eyes, frantically searching them with his own.

“It’s… just before eight,” she said, though there was a questioning tone to the statement as she stared up at her son, mirroring his wide-eyed expression.

Chanyeol visibly deflated at her words. “Oh,” he said, shrinking away from her, his expression shifting from anxious to annoyed as he adjusted his glasses where they were perched crookedly atop his nose. “Why did you wake me so early?”

His mother gave him a confused look then, quirked an eyebrow before answering, “well, you never said what time you’d be leaving, so I thought I’d wake you early just in ca—“

Her explanation was interrupted by a loud groan from Chanyeol, followed by a low _“damn it!”_.

Youngmi’s brow furrowed at her son’s frustration. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, walking over to place a hand on his back. He just groaned again, before running a hand across his face.

“No, nothing…” he said, his voice muffled slightly behind his palm. “It’s just that I completely forgot to ask my fr—… the guy I’m meeting—what time we should meet up.” It felt awkward calling Baekhyun his “friend”. After all, they’d only known each other for a week. The fact that Chanyeol was even going to the man’s house was already pretty strange.

If he was still going, that is.

“Well,” Youngmi offered, interrupting Chanyeol’s train of thought by sliding her hand down to squeeze his hand. “Why don’t you come downstairs to have breakfast first. I’m sure he won’t be expecting you _right this instant_.” His mother was still smiling that same reassuring smile, and it made Chanyeol feel bad for taking his frustration out on her. Heaving a sigh, he pulled her into a hug, muttered a soft “sorry”, before heeding her words and following after her into the kitchen.

As Chanyeol picked at the bowl of rice that she’d prepared for him, he couldn’t help but replay his conversation with Baekhyun from the day before in his head. There seemed to be a pattern to his behaviour; an odd habit that Chanyeol had apparently picked up when faced with the other man: over the past week, every time he’d bumped into Baekhyun and wanted to speak to him about something specific, he’d managed to leave out all the vital details in whatever he wanted to say. Yesterday had been no different. Sure, when he’d caught him in the garage, Chanyeol had managed to clinch a deal about the Grease film, but he’d still somehow managed to completely forget to arrange what _time_ to come and fetch it.

As a result, Chanyeol ended up pacing up and down the length of the kitchen, worrying at the inside of his cheek, his rice long forgotten where he held it clamped between his hands.

Just as he came to a halt in front of the rice cooker to empty his untouched breakfast back into it, his sister walked into the room.

“What’re you doing up this early on a Saturday?” she asked him, rubbing at her arms in the morning cold as she peered over his shoulder at the food.

“Oh… mom woke me up,” he said, his tone offhand as his eyes focused on the still-steaming rice in the rice cooker. Behind him, Yoora kept quiet for a moment, the two of them just standing there as they tried to fully wake up.

Eventually, Yoora’s husband walked into the room and she sprung into motion again, huffing before shoving Chanyeol to the side and grabbing his bowl of rice from him to eat herself.

“Chanyeol, you should go take a shower. You smell like old sheet music,” she exclaimed, before sitting down across from her husband at the table and finally digging in. Unfortunately, Chanyeol couldn’t disagree, so he reluctantly complied.

One shower and a change of clothes later, and Chanyeol was ready to leave. He had originally wanted to wear a denim jacket that he felt suited him well, accentuating his shoulders and making them appear broader—but the weather hadn’t warmed up much, so he’d resorted to wearing a pale grey puffer jacket that his mother had bought for him last winter instead. Admittedly, it made him look a bit like a snowman, but it had big enough pockets to fit his wallet, T-Money card and phone securely, so it’d just have to do.

“I’m heading out now,” he called as he walked past the kitchen to the front door, slipped his sneakers on.

“Are you sure you know the way?” came Yoora’s reply, which was followed by their mother heading out into the hallway with a scarf, which she waved in front of Chanyeol until he reluctantly took it from her and wrapped it around his neck. Rolling his eyes, he answered, “of course I do. Hannam-dong is only a half hour subway ride from here,” before pecking his mother on the cheek and heading out the door.

***

Despite his general familiarity with Hannam-dong, Chanyeol was very, _very_ lost.

After heading out of Hangangjin station and crossing over the dual carriageway that split through the centre of the neighbourhood, Chanyeol ended up in a much more residential area than the more commercial shopping streets that he was used to. The place was teeming with narrow roads and half-hidden road signs, which resulted in him walking up and down for almost an hour, slowly losing his grip on his sanity as he tried to find someone, _anyone_ , that he could ask for directions. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people strolling along the streets in that area, so he eventually caved and ended up calling Yoora after walking past the Spanish Embassy for what felt like the tenth time.

Chanyeol didn’t even get the chance to say hello.

“I knew you’d get lost,” Yoora said as soon as she picked up, audibly grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Chanyeol as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I just need you to give me directions right now. You can laugh at me later.”

Obviously picking up on her brother’s frustration, Yoora’s tone shifted to a more gentle one. “Alright—what address did he give you?” she asked.

“Well, it _should_ be somewhere along this road…” Chanyeol said, walking up to the almost invisible road sign where it was hidden behind a patch of ivy growing up an adjacent building’s outer wall. After struggling for a moment to make out the words printed on it, he managed to read the road’s name to her.

“He said his house is Nr. 22,” he added, eyes racking the houses lining the narrow road he was on.

Just as Yoora started giving him suggestions, Chanyeol caught sight of a familiar black Audi driving up a side street further ahead. Eyebrows rising up into his hairline, he cut his sister off.

“H-hang on, I think I just saw him drive past. I’ll try to follow his car,” he said, hanging up and hurrying after the car, but by the time he reached the road it had driven up, it was already gone. There couldn’t possibly be _that_ many side streets in this direction though; Chanyeol would find it in no time.

As it turned out, “no time” meant another half an hour. Eventually, heaving with the effort of trying to keep up, Chanyeol found Baekhyun’s car parked in the driveway of one of the houses on the furthest cul-de-sac lining the winding side street. Apparently black Audis were particularly popular in this neighbourhood, so he only realised it was Baekhyun’s when he noticed the house number mounted on the gate. It was almost completely hidden from view behind a set of recycling bins, and Chanyeol felt a twinge of annoyance in his gut as he finally took note of the small sign after walking past the house twice.

With a drawn-out, breathy sigh, he walked through the wrought iron gate, up to the front door and rang the bell.

It took a while for the door to open. Chanyeol could hear a metallic jangling on the other side, though the sound was suddenly drowned out by a loud _thump_ , followed by a colourful string of expletives. A second later the door was opening and a somewhat flustered-looking Baekhyun was greeting him.

“Hey, maestro. Look at that, right on time—” Baekhyun cut himself off to peer over his shoulder to where a stack of papers was strewn messily across the floor. “Sorry,” he said, before moving out of the way to let Chanyeol in. “I just got back from the gym.”

Chanyeol hummed in response as he followed the man inside the house, slid off his sneakers by the door. Baekhyun was clad in a tight, black, spandex muscle tee that accentuated his form, paired with dark grey shorts that ended just above the knee, leaving his arms and legs on full display. True to the man’s word, Chanyeol noticed a light film of sweat covering his appendages as he motioned for Chanyeol to follow him.

As they exited the entryway and headed down a corridor to the rest of the house, Chanyeol couldn’t help but notice that, despite his height, Baekhyun was _broad_ —broader, relatively speaking, than Chanyeol in fact, with wide shoulders that led the way to well-built shoulder blades that flexed with his movements, before tapering down into a narrow waist, followed by wide hips and _oh_ —now Chanyeol was staring at his ass.

_Fuuuuuuuuck._

“… I’ll go look for it now. Just give me a second,” Baekhyun was saying, and Chanyeol, blushing furiously, had to will himself to look anywhere but the other man as he followed him into the living room. Gulping audibly, Chanyeol peered around the room as Baekhyun went over to a desk at the other end of the room, began fishing through the drawers.

The room was huge, just like the rest of the house—and was almost the size of Chanyeol’s entire apartment; but _empty_ —there was only the desk, a couch with a coffee table in front of it, and a set of barstools lining the windows along the far wall. There were no boxes around, so Chanyeol couldn’t help his curiosity as he asked, “did you just move here?”

Glancing back at him from his cluttered desk, Baekhyun made an expression halfway between a grin and a grimace, answered, “oh, no… my wife just took most of the furniture with her when she moved out,” before going back to searching for the DVD.

Moved out…? Okay, _weird_.

“The two of you don’t live together?” Chanyeol said, his voice cautiously neutral as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Not anymore, no.”

They fell into silence after that, so Chanyeol went back to looking around. Turning, he peered back out into the hallway he’d come in through. There was a set of stairs leading up to a second floor, as well as a set leading down, probably to a basement.

“It’s a pretty big house,” he said absentmindedly, tilting his head to the side to try and look up at the second floor where it stretched out at the top of the stairs.

Baekhyun had finally found the DVD. He turned back to Chanyeol, flipping the case around to inspect it as he said, “yeah… I bought it when Taeyeon and I were still together. Though she ended up wanting to leave, and I didn’t want to go—so we decided to separate.”

Chanyeol considered his answer for a second before turning around, saying, “Oh, that sounds pretty civil.”

“Well, yes. The separation _was_ pretty civil, I suppose… it was her running off with my best friend afterwards that wasn’t.”

Oh.

Oh _wow_.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Chanyeol said, at a loss of what else he _could_ say.

Baekhyun smiled at him then, heading over to him to press the DVD into his hands.

“No, no. It’s fine… we actually just finalised our divorce yesterday.” He said, adding a dry laugh and looking away, down at his feet as he continued, “It’s funny—this’ll be the first birthday I’ve gotten to spend as a bachelor in, what, six years?”

Chanyeol didn’t really know how to reply to that. Instead, he asked, “it’s your birthday today?”

Baekhyun ran a hand through his hair, cast his eyes skyward and sighed. Turning back to Chanyeol, he answered, “Monday. I’m turning twenty-eight.”

Chanyeol just stared at Baekhyun, wide-eyed. The man certainly didn’t _look_ his age.

“Really?” was all Chanyeol managed in reply.

Baekhyun simply nodded as he broke away from him and headed into the kitchen, asked, “would you like something to drink? You came all this way just for the damn DVD, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least make you a coffee or something.”

Chanyeol was about to accept his offer when an idea popped into his head, taking him off guard. Stilling for a second, he stared at Baekhyun across the room, gnawed at the inside of his lip before finally asking, “why don’t you let me do it? I could make lunch or something… like as an early birthday present—” and as soon as Chanyeol had said the words, he wished he hadn’t.

Peering up at Baekhyun from where he stood across the room, Chanyeol noticed the visible change in the man’s aura at his words: Baekhyun leant forwards, rested his hands on either side of the sink, a series of emotions playing across his face in such quick succession that Chanyeol couldn’t quite make them out.

Finally, “I don’t have any ingredients in the house,” he admitted, and _okay_ , at least it wasn’t a flat-out rejection.

Moving closer, Chanyeol joined him in the kitchen, placed the DVD on the island countertop, his hand coming to rest just beside the case.

“I mean,” he countered, voice contemplative. “I could always go buy some…?” He offered Baekhyun a small smile, drew his shoulders up into a shrug as he stared at him expectantly.

Baekhyun seemed to make his mind up about something then, his face setting decidedly as he said, “alright. I’ll give you money for it,” and then he was already halfway across the room and heading out into the hallway. He returned a moment later with his wallet, pulled out a ₩50’000 note and offered it to Chanyeol.

“Oh, no!” Chanyeol insisted, waving his hands in protest. “I’ll pay. I-it was my idea, anyway—”

“Just shut up and take it,” Baekhyun said, his usual grin returning to his face. “I rarely cook, so the fact that you even offered to is already too kind.”

Chanyeol couldn’t contend with that. After all, they were treating it as a pre-actual-birthday birthday lunch, and people were supposed to get their way on their birthdays. So, he hesitantly took the outstretched bank note, stuffed it in his pocket.

“Uh, I’ll… be back in a bit, then,” he said as he headed back towards the front door and onto the narrow street outside.

“See you in a few!” came Baekhyun’s reply, his tone much more chipper than before. Chanyeol just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he headed down the road towards the shops.

***

Upon returning, Chanyeol was half surprised to find the front door unlocked. There’d been no answer when he rang the bell, so he’d been worried for a second that maybe Baekhyun had only been as forthcoming as he was earlier because he wanted Chanyeol to leave as quickly as possible, but then he’d tried the doorknob—more out of curiosity than anything—and found the door to be open. Tentatively, he’d walked inside, only to be greeted by the muffled sound of water running somewhere upstairs.

Ah, Baekhyun had obviously gone to take a shower. With a light snort, Chanyeol toed his shoes off, hung his jacket on a coatrack beside the door and headed into the kitchen. He’d decided to make Buchu-japchae, though he’d had to compromise on some of the ingredients due to the rather exorbitant prices in the fancy grocery store he’d ended up in, resorting to buying some more reasonably-priced chicken instead of pork, and regular portobello mushrooms instead of the recipe’s intended king oyster variety.

Just as he was readying the ingredients to fry, the stream of water upstairs suddenly stopped, reminding him of exactly what was happening. Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile to himself as he searched Baekhyun’s cupboards for a pan. He never in a million years would’ve thought that Baekhyun would’ve invited him to his house, let alone allowed Chanyeol to _cook_ for him. Chanyeol had always loved cooking, so he was actually glad to have been given the opportunity to prepare a meal for someone. It was a more than welcome distraction from his current bout of musical _writer’s block_.

As he finally found a pan and poured some oil into it, Chanyeol became aware of the sound of footsteps approaching. Peering over his shoulder, he turned just in time to see Baekhyun pulling on a dark, knitted sweater over his head, rendering his still-damp hair a total mess. The sight left a soft blush creeping across Chanyeol’s face, and he hastily turned back to the stove to start placing the ingredients he’d sliced into the pan atop it.

As he got to work arranging the chives amongst the chicken, Baekhyun approached behind him, peered over his shoulder at the sizzling food. “That smells amazing,” he said, humming out a quiet moan to further annunciate his point.

Chanyeol went rigid at the sound, goose-bumps forming along his skin. Baekhyun was standing so close behind him that Chanyeol could feel his body warmth seeping through his clothes, feel the damp of his hair, smell his citrussy shampoo. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from saying anything he might regret.

“If you need any help, you can just ask me. I’m not sure if I’ll actually be of much use, but you can always try,” Baekhyun offered at last, letting out a soft chuckle. Patting a hand against Chanyeol’s shoulder, the man turned around and headed somewhere across the room.

“There’s a table on the terrace,” he explained. “I’ll just go get a cloth to wipe it down.”

As soon as Baekhyun disappeared into one of the rooms lining the hallway outside, Chanyeol let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to prolong his stay at Baekhyun’s house—in such _close proximity_ to the other man? Heaving a sigh, he peered down at the food where it was glistening in the pan, stirred it. It’d been a long time since Chanyeol had been as… _interested_ in anyone as he was in Baekhyun now—although, perhaps a contributing factor to his infatuation with the man was Baekhyun’s almost _incessant_ flirting, and the fact that very few other people in his life did so. Chanyeol didn’t dwell on the thought for long though, instead pulling his phone out of his pocket and texting his mother that he wouldn’t be eating at home.

Just as Baekhyun returned, cloth in hand, to wipe the table outside, Chanyeol busied himself with finding a set of plates that he could dish up on. Once the food was arranged on them, he rummaged through the drawers for chopsticks, called out “the food’s ready!”

It was a little late to call the meal _lunch_ , though it still felt oddly like it as he balanced the two plates on his arm, picked up the two sets of chopsticks and headed out onto the terrace to set them down. Baekhyun beamed at him as he approached, resulting in Chanyeol almost tripping over his own feet, thumping heavily against the table as he set the plates down rather ungracefully atop it.

“How do you do that?” Baekhyun asked as he seated himself, reaching his leg under the table to push out the opposite chair for Chanyeol.

“D-do what?” Chanyeol asked, still a little flustered as he sat down across from him, grabbed his chopsticks.

“Balance plates on your arm. I thought only waitstaff could do that,” Baekhyun explained as he eyed the food.

Chanyeol let out a surprised laugh at that. “I suppose you have a point. My mother used to run an Italian restaurant, and sometimes I got to help out,” he conceded. He was waiting for Baekhyun to start eating first, eager to gauge the man’s reaction to the meal.

“Ooh, so does that mean you can cook Italian food as well?” Baekhyun asked as he picked up a chunk of chicken, eyed it for a moment before finally placing it in his mouth.

“Wow, this is good,” he exclaimed, and Chanyeol felt a warmth surge through him, smiled his thanks at him before answering, “I suppose so… I just don’t cook it very often anymore.”

Baekhyun peered up at him then, incredulous.

“What a waste!” he said. “I’m sure you’re an amazing cook… if you don’t cook it at home, you should come here and make it for me.” He pointed at the dish in front of him for emphasis, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness.

“You haven’t seen my mother’s cooking yet. This is nothing in comparison,” he said finally, also digging in.

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at him, a sly grin spreading his lips wide as he said, “wow, already inviting me over? I’m honoured.” Chanyeol let out an embarrassed squawk at his words, hands flying up as he insisted that he hadn’t meant it like that. Baekhyun just laughed though, before going back to eating his _pre-actual-birthday birthday lunch_.

***

Much later, when there were just leftovers on their plates and the light outside started dimming, and Baekhyun had gotten them two beers from the fridge, they just talked. Chanyeol had been at the man’s house for hours now, as the weather had changed from dry, to drizzling, to a full on downpour. They paid it no heed though, Baekhyun too busy telling stories and Chanyeol too busy listening.

"You know,” Chanyeol said as he grabbed his can off the table, cradled it between his hands. “I don't think that Jongin actually enjoys theatre all that much…" It was a rather abstract thought, but he’d noticed how the boy tried to avoid actual acting roles in exchange for dancing parts, and it had struck him as rather odd behaviour for a _theatre student_.

"Well, I suppose he isn't really there by choice," Baekhyun mused.

Chanyeol stared at him, puzzled. "How so?" he asked around his can.

"Well," said Baekhyun, his fingers thrumming against the marble table-top. "His parents are a pretty big deal in the thespian community… I suppose they _did_ push him more towards that forte."

Chanyeol sighed. "It's a shame," he said. "He's such a good dancer."

"Yeah!" Baekhyun agreed. "He told me that he'd much rather take on one of the backing dancer roles in the play, but unfortunately, due to our collaboration with the visual arts department, those roles are all occupied by dance students."

"… what about you though?" Chanyeol asked, and the sudden change of subject took Baekhyun by surprise. He turned to face Chanyeol with a confused quirk of his brow. "What do you mean?" he asked, before taking a sip of his beer.

"Did you ever think of pursuing dance? Or did you study it?" Chanyeol amended.

"Who, me?" Baekhyun asked, raising his arm onto his chair's armrest, tilting his head to the side to lean on it. There was a contemplative note in his expression as he continued, "no, never… I attended a ballroom class with my wife once, though it wasn't really by choice," chuckling softly, Baekhyun downed the rest of his drink and reached over to pick at the leftovers from Chanyeol’s cooking. Chanyeol's eyes followed his movements the whole while. He really loved the way Baekhyun moved—he was always so graceful, every movement so deliberate.

"You really think so?" Baekhyun asked, an amused little smile tugging at his lips. Chanyeol hadn't realised that he'd said it out loud.

"Err, well— _yes_. You really are very poised," he managed in reply, shyly looking away from the other man and instead staring into his drink where he held it between his hands.

Baekhyun didn't reply. Instead, he rose from his seat, moved past Chanyeol towards the kitchen. In passing, he reached up to ruffle Chanyeol's hair, taking the brunette by surprise. Chanyeol let out a little gasp at the sudden contact, though if Baekhyun noticed it, he didn't say anything.

Once he was in the kitchen, Chanyeol heard a cupboard opening, followed by a rustling sound. A moment later, Baekhyun was walking back over with two packets of _Haitai-Calbee Honey Butter Chips_. He tossed one onto the table in front of Chanyeol, before seating himself back down across from him, opening his own.

Chanyeol stared at the packet of little star-shaped chips for a moment, before finally setting his beer can down on the table beside it.

"You don't need to call her that anymore, you know," he said quietly, unable to stop the words before they'd escaped his mouth.

Looking up from his makeshift dessert, Baekhyun looked at him in puzzlement for a second. "Who?" he asked, absently fishing a chip out of the packet and placing it in his mouth.

"Your wife," Chanyeol said, his voice so low it was barely audible. "You—you don't need to call her your wife anymore."

Looking up, Chanyeol half expected Baekhyun to be mad at him, offended even—

But he wasn't. There was an odd mixture of emotions playing across his face. When his expression finally settled, it was in a solemn sort of smile.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand along the back of his neck. "Force of habit. I guess I’m still not quite used to the thought of finally being completely separated from her."

"But you were separated before, weren't you?" Chanyeol asked as he also grabbed his chips, ripped the packet open to start nibbling at one.

"Yes, but I never really felt free, I suppose. Now I’m at liberty to do _whatever_ I want… it's just weird, after so many years."

Chanyeol just hummed in response. Despite the man’ bad-boy vibe Baekhyun gave off, he had obviously cared very much for his wife.

“So what do you want to do with your newfound freedom?” he asked after a moment’s silence. The sky outside was completely dark now, illuminated only by the city’s light pollution and the stars, and the rain was really coming down.

“I’m not sure,” Baekhyun admitted. “I guess I still have to figure that out.” There was a small smile pulling at his lips, and Chanyeol probably wouldn’t have noticed it if hadn’t become so familiar with his usual smile. Somehow, he found himself grinning along with him, and when their eyes met, they both erupted into soft laughter.

“I should probably get going,” Chanyeol said once they had grown quiet again. “My mother’s probably worrying by now.”

Baekhyun snorted before getting up. “Worried the big, bad wolf has stolen you away from her?” he asked as he helped Chanyeol bring the plates back into the kitchen.

“Something like that,” Chanyeol said as he followed Baekhyun down the hallway to the front door.

“Well you should tell her that I mean you no harm. I’m just terribly selfish and I enjoy her son’s company far too much.” Baekhyun pulled the door open and leant against it, peered at Chanyeol as he bent down to pull on his sneakers.

“You do?” Chanyeol asked, his eyes bright as he looked up at Baekhyun, a wide smile on his face. The eager movement made him lose his balance though, and his expression changed rapidly as he lost his balance and fell backwards onto his ass.

With a quiet chuckle, Baekhyun held out a hand to help him up, said, “I’ll see you at work.” Reaching behind the door, he pulled an umbrella out a stander there, handed it to Chanyeol, who wordlessly took it.

“You’d better bring that back sometime!” Baekhyun called after him as Chanyeol headed towards the front gate. As he walked through it, Chanyeol turned to grin at him over his shoulder.

“Make sure you’re on time!" he joked in response, and then he was out of view as he disappeared behind the tall garden wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OoOoOoOooooOoOoOOo, a semi-date already??? Who'd have thought?!
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, I worked Baekhyun's birthday into this fic because it was his actual birthday last weekend ~~(when i was SUPPOSED to upload this)~~. Happy belated birthday Baekhyunnie! <3
> 
> Also, I would just like to point out that I have not modified Baekhyun's age in this fic! In Korea, people reveal their ages based on the Korean lunar calendar, not the calendar we use in the west. From what I've learned, they add an extra year or two depending what time of year they were born. It's all pretty complicated, and I simplified Baekhyun's answer to "I'm turning twenty-eight" due to the fact that this is an English fic, but yeah. He's actualy 27, he just says he's 28 because reasons.
> 
> Double also: I'm really sorry for the week-long delay; school's been crazy. I'm going to try and stick to uploading this fic weekly or at least semi-weekly though!
> 
>   ~~And okay so this chapter didn't really come out how I wanted it to, and the wording is a little clunkier than usual, but let's just ignore that for now.~~
> 
>  FINALLY, **_BIG ANNOUNCEMENT_** (or semi-big if you're just not interested):
> 
> I'VE STARTED UPLOADING THIS FIC ON **ASIANFANFICS** AS WELL.
> 
> I know some people prefer that platform and I used to love it myself, so if you'd prefer to read this story over there, just click the following link:
> 
>  [Click me, bro](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1401512)
> 
>  (It has the same title as here to avoid confusion, so don't worry!)
> 
> And as always, please leave me a comment (or kudos if you're feeling generous), as they REALLY help me with motivation and other such qualities.


	5. Jealousy... desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OF ALL BEFORE WE GET INTO THIS CHAPTER I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SAY A HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL THE ANGELS WHO HAVE COMMENTED AND LEFT KUDOS. You've been like a big motivational stick up my ass this whole time, pushing me to actually finish this monster. Thank you so much!! <3<3
> 
> Also, BAEKHYUN CREATED A YOUTUBE CHANNEL OMG?????? Can you even believe? [GO SUBSCRIBE HERE](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUyr5000laFgF79tWJB3rXQ)
> 
> And also I am SUPER SORRY for taking so long to upload this chapter! I wrote most of it a week ago, but then school got all crazy and I had to try not to whack half my classmates' asses because they're JERKS, and then I had 209580 exams so I had to postpone my fanfiction duties until today. I hope you can understand, and as said I'm SO SORRY. Next time I upload late you can all whoop my ass. ( T n T )
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO, I'm sorry if this chapter is super clunky at times? Writer's block was a real pain this time. ~~Hopefully I figure my shit out next chapter though!~~

Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel disappointed by Baekhyun’s absence from school on Monday. True to the man’s word, him and Soojung had taken their senior class on their end-of-year field trip to the Seoul Arts Centre, leaving the canteen unusually quiet without the addition of the fifty odd students that were away. Over the past week, Chanyeol had quickly realised that the theatre students were some of the school’s _loudest_ , and there hadn’t been a single instance during any of his lunchbreaks where there hadn’t at least been a small gathering of them at one of the tables, avidly rehearsing their lines for an upcoming production or practicing the lyrics to a song. Of course, even with the seniors currently away, there was still the low hum of conversation throughout the place, but something was definitely _missing_ , and that missing something—or _someone_ —resulted in Chanyeol ending up having to eat with all the other visual arts teachers, sitting squashed uncomfortably between Kyungsoo and Minseok at one of the crowded canteen tables as he stared at his _dosirak_ in disinclination. His mother had filled it with beautiful, handmade _gimbap_ rolls and yet, despite how good they looked, he had no appetite. The uncanny quiet in the canteen was unsettling him, making him feel awkward.

As the silence pressed on, he felt more and more eager to break it until finally he resorted to striking up conversation with Minseok, who was busy texting his wife.

“Hey, Minseok,” he said, before placing the lid back on his _dosirak_ for later. Peering up from his unsent text message, the man turned to him, his eyes wide and curious.

“Mmh?” he prompted, before reaching out to pick up his Styrofoam coffee cup from his tray and take a sip.

Chanyeol fumbled with the hem of his sleeve for a moment before asking, “when will the senior theatre students be back from their field trip?”

Minseok lowered his coffee cup, brows furrowed in thought for a moment before he replied, “well, it depends on where they went. I wasn’t informed of this year’s destination.”

“The Seoul Arts Centre,” Chanyeol informed him, recalling his conversation with Baekhyun in the school car park on Friday.

“Oh,” Minseok amended, “well, there’s a lot to see there… they’ll probably be gone the whole day, then. Why?” he eyed Chanyeol inquiringly before reaching past him to steal a sandwich square from Kyungsoo, who grunted some indignant response in return.

“Oh, uh… no reason,” Chanyeol managed, realising that he hadn’t actually thought as far as the reason for his question yet.

“He probably wants to check up on his _muse_ ,” Amber called across the table at them. Chanyeol blanched, eyes wide and incredulous as he stared at her. _’How could she possibly know?’_ he thought, _‘had Baekhyun told her something—?’_

“Ah, it seems _Madame Jung_ has yet another admirer,” Jongdae chimed in with a wink in Chanyeol’s direction, obviously having been listening in on their discussion.

“W-wait, it’s not—I don’t—” Chanyeol began, but Jongdae cut him off, looking far too amused as he stated, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. She _is_ enchanting, but many have fallen under her spell, only to be turned down… I wouldn’t risk it; behind the mask she’s the devil incarnate.”

The table erupted into laughter at the exaggerated comment. Even Chanyeol, despite feeling a little overwhelmed at being the butt of the joke, found himself joining in, the awkward aura from just seconds before dissipating into a silly sense of merriment that remained with them for the remainder of the afternoon.

The next day, however, their mood turned far more serious. In the morning, everyone had to attend a mandatory check-in meeting with their departments’ heads to present their progress reports, and needless to say, Chanyeol’s was crappy. Despite watching _Grease_ five times over the last two days, he’d found little inspiration for his rewrite, and thus had only been able to present a few bars. Junmyeon had still been as reassuring as ever, insisting that Chanyeol would become more inspired with time, but his words of encouragement had fallen on deaf ears as Chanyeol mentally reprimanded himself for messing up so badly in his very first progress check-in.

By the time the whole ordeal was finally over, most of them were beyond unmotivated for their afternoon rehearsals. Kyungsoo had scheduled a joint vocal rehearsal for the vocal and theatre students, and as the visual arts teachers and the theatre coordinators crowded around the piano in the far corner of his and Chanyeol’s classroom, Chanyeol sat himself down quietly at their shared desk, away from the crowd, and let out a soft sigh. Peering over at the group, Chanyeol watched as Jongdae started playing some major scales on the piano for the students to warm up with. Beside them, Kyungsoo was pacing up and down the piano’s length, flipping through sheet music with a scowl on his face, whilst the other teachers were quietly conversing with each other, the sound drowned out by the chorus of the students’ voices, accompanied by Jongdae’s piano playing.

The sight seemed so complete—rehearsed even—like it had happened so many times already that everyone had just fallen into an unspoken routine, and it made Chanyeol wonder why he was even there. He couldn’t instruct the students on their singing, nor could he be of much musical assistance, as the room was already full of other, more experienced individuals as far as theatrical scores were concerned. However, his remaining classes for the day had been put on hold for the rehearsals, and attendance was mandatory for all the music and vocal teachers, so he couldn’t even make use of his lack of participation to try and find inspiration for his rewrite—

His train of thought was brought to a rather abrupt halt by a sudden _bzzt bzzt_ ing coming from his phone where he’d placed it on the desk. Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol glanced over at the screen. It was a text from Yoora. Pursing his lips together in a thin line, his eyes flickered over to the crowd of other teachers for a second before he picked his phone up to read it.

_'So, who is he?’_ it read.

Chanyeol’s brows furrowed in confusion. Sliding his hands down so he was holding the device just out of view beneath the desk, he typed, _’who is who?’_

It wasn’t two seconds later that Yoora replied, _’the GUY that stole you away on Saturday, duh.’_ She followed the text up with two emojis rolling their eyes.

Why was everyone on his case all of a sudden? It wasn’t like Chanyeol walked around with love-hearts for eyes, picking the petals off of flowers, wondering “he loves me, he loves me not” aloud for the world to hear. This was becoming absurd.

_’It wasn’t a DATE Yoora. I had to fetch something from a co-worker and we ended up eating together,’_ he texted back, and it wasn’t strictly a lie, just a stretch of the truth.

_’Is he cute though?’_ came Yoora’s reply after a short pause in their conversation. Just as Chanyeol felt his cheeks start to burn, the text was followed up by another. _’Sorry, Soongyu grabbed my phone,’_ it read, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head as he turned back to the other teachers. They were still all chattering amongst each other, though the students had stopped practicing for a short break and some of them had left the room to get some fresh air. Jongdae was still seated at the piano, studying some sheet music—probably the score Kyungsoo had been flipping through earlier—accompanied by Baekhyun, who had materialised out of thin air it seemed and was now leaning on Jongdae’s shoulders, peering over his head to read along with him, his lips drawn into a concentrated pout.

Completely drawn into the scene, Chanyeol barely realised his phone slipping through his suddenly clammy fingers until it fell to the floor with an unpleasant _thunk_. Jumping, Chanyeol looked down, hastily picked it up and looked it over, turned on the screen to assess any possible damage to it. As he unlocked it, his phone opened up to his chat with his sister, the open question of _’Is he cute though?’_ still open, unanswered, the bright colours from his _Line_ wallpaper burning into his eyes, nagging for him to reply. Gnawing at the inside of his lip, Chanyeol stared at the words for a moment, before finally answering, _’almost too cute to be true.’_

He could practically hear Soongyu and his sister squealing on the other end, though instead of engaging further with the two women, he turned back to the piano, flipping his phone between his hands as he studied the two men there, contemplating whether or not to get up and go talk to them.

However, by the time he decided to go over to them, the two of them had already started talking. They seemed to be talking about the music, or at least, it seemed that way until Baekhyun leant down to whisper something in Jongdae’s ear. As Baekhyun spoke, one of his hands slid up from Jongdae’s shoulder to his jaw, causing the man to simper at the clearly ticklish trail his fingers had traced, and then he was angling the man’s head to the side, his face so close to Jongdae’s neck that he could probably feel the man’s pulse—

Chanyeol forced his eyes off of them, shocked. His eyebrows were drawn so tightly together that the muscles of his face were hurting, though feeling was dampened by a sudden constricting in his chest, the sensation overwhelming Chanyeol completely.

Just what the hell was Baekhyun doing? Wasn’t that a little… unseemly a gesture for the workplace? Moreover, how could it possibly be appropriate in front of someone that Baekhyun had been giving _signals_ to…? Or perhaps he hadn’t even been giving Chanyeol any signals at all? Maybe it was all just wishful thinking on Chanyeol’s part and had only been intended as polite friendliness all along?

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” came a voice from behind him suddenly, startling him. Whirling around, Chanyeol peered up to find Kyungsoo standing there, rummaging through some files in a set of drawers. Seemingly having found what he was looking for, he pulled a file out, turned to face Chanyeol.

“Baekhyun has no boundaries. Flirting is like a sport to him… I know that probably won’t make the sight any more pleasant, but it’s something to think about, at least,” he said, matter-of-factly. Chanyeol turned back to look at the two teachers again. Baekhyun had essentially draped himself over Jongdae like a coat, and the two of them were tittering uncontrollably. There seemed to be quite the connection between the two of them, some strong bond probably formed through years of friendship.

Did their close physicality really mean nothing? Was it all really just a game to Baekhyun?

“I think I’m going to go get some air,” Chanyeol declared abruptly, already rising to his feet to make a beeline for the door. Once outside, he turned down the hall towards the bathrooms, his feet carrying him as quickly as possible without breaking into a full on jog. He needed to get away from everyone, take a second to calm down.

Unfortunately, he never managed to get as far as the bathrooms. Just as he reached door to the men’s room, Junmyeon’s voice came flooding down the hall.

“Chanyeol, hold up!” he was calling. Popping his head back out of the small alcove that led to the bathrooms, he saw the visual arts director jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time. There was a wide smile on his face that seemed a little unbefitting of the current circumstances.

Regardless, Chanyeol plastered on a similar smile, headed back out into the open to greet the man.

“Mr. Kim…?” he prompted, bowing to the man as he approached.

Coming to a stop in front of Chanyeol, Junmyeon took a second to fix his already-immaculate jacket’s lapels, smoothing his hands over the fabric before speaking.

“I wanted to come and inform you that your classroom is ready. You can settle in as soon as you want. Here’s the key.” Reaching out, he handed it to Chanyeol, a warm smile gracing his lips.

“Oh… thank you, sir,” Chanyeol said, gladly accepting the key and pocketing it. The man just nodded, placed a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder, before heading past him towards Kyungsoo’s classroom. Chanyeol remained in place, his thoughts flying a mile a minute as Junmyeon’s footsteps slowly grew distant.

Then, “wait, Mr. Kim!” he called, spinning on his heel and jogging after the man. Junmyeon turned to face him, hand braced against Kyungsoo’s classroom door, a bemused look on his face.

“Could I go move my things now? I’d like to get it done before my classes tomorrow,” Chanyeol said, and it was true. He really did want to set the classroom up as soon as possible. It would mean finally being able to teach in a space that was his _own_. Plus, he would also be able to get out of the rehearsals, though Junmyeon didn’t have to know about that part.

“Well, if you feel it’d be the best use of your time, then sure,” Junmyeon answered. “You can get someone to help speed things up, if you’d like.”

Chanyeol perked up at that. “Thank you, sir,” he said, following Junmyeon into the classroom to grab his guitar case. Scanning the room, he took note of Amber, who was leaning against the broad windowsill that lined the far side of the room, scrolling through something on her phone. Grinning, he made his way over to her.

“Hey, want to get out of here?” he prompted, deliberately lowering his voice to an almost comical timbre. Amber looked up at him, snorted.

“More than anything,” she said, before asking, “where to?”

“My new classroom. Junmyeon said I could have someone help me move my things, and seeing as you look just about as bored as I feel, I figured you were the most worthy candidate of being saved.”

Amber poised a finger against her chin in mock-thought, before answering, “deal,” and following Chanyeol through the room as they collected his sheet music from where he’d left it scattered about during his last class the day before.

***

Chanyeol’s classroom wasn’t quite as big as Kyungsoo’s, but it wasn’t far off, either. The room was a bit of an odd shape, with a small recess at the back where it extended behind the boiler room next door. There definitely wasn’t enough room for a grand piano, but Chanyeol could probably make room for the keyboard in his studio if need be.

As him and Amber got to work moving chairs and desks around, they fell into an amiable silence, with Amber humming some new pop song whilst Chanyeol focused on deciding where his teacher’s desk ought to go. In the end, the small recess by the back windows seemed like the best option, so he heaved it across the room from where it was beside the door.

“You know,” Amber said finally once she was done arranging the students’ desks in rows facing the blackboard lining the classroom’s east wall, “I think I was probably an architect in another life. Just look at how neat these rows are!”

Peering up from where he was filing his sheet music in his desk drawers, Chanyeol took in the neatly lined up desks, impressed.

“Wow, what a waste of talents,” he commented, earning himself a playful scowl from Amber, which he returned in kind.

“All that’s missing now is a bookcase for all your music,” Amber said, moving over to the empty stretch of wall by the door and mapping it out with her hands. “You could probably put it over he—” cutting herself off, she peered through the doorframe out into the hall, a frown on her face. From where he was standing by his desk, Chanyeol couldn’t quite make out what she was looking at.

“Hey,” she said, her voice taking on a domineering tone as she spoke to whoever was coming. “You’re not allowed in until we’re done.”

“Relax, I’m here to help,” the voice said, and Chanyeol felt his gut drop. Baekhyun.

“Fine, but only if Chanyeol’s okay with it. He’s got major OCD with the desks—” Chanyeol offered her a look that shut her up.

The two teachers were looking at him expectantly, Amber with an eager look in her eyes, Baekhyun with something darker that he couldn’t quite make out. Somehow, it made Chanyeol scared to speak, almost like he wasn’t sure what his voice would sound like if he did.

“W-well, uh…” he began, but he was cut off by Amber as she started rummaging through her left trouser pocket.

“Actually, it’s perfect timing, Baekhyun. I could really do with a smoke.” Peering over her shoulder, Amber winked at Chanyeol before heading out of the classroom, already pulling her e-cigarette out of her pocket.

Chanyeol watched her leave, eyes fixed on the back of her head as she walked away. Once she was completely out of view, he turned around, busied himself with sorting through the last batch of music notes on his desk, unsure of what else to do.

Behind him, he could hear Baekhyun setting his bag down. It was just before 5PM, so he had probably spotted them on his way home.

“So,” he said, and he sounded closer than he had been a moment ago. “Were you just planning on avoiding me all afternoon?”

Chanyeol whirled around at that, his blood pressure rising along with his temper. Baekhyun was leaning against the desk closest to his own, a cool expression on his face as he stared Chanyeol down.

“Were you planning on leading me on for long?” he countered, his voice so low that if Baekhyun hadn’t been expecting him to speak, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“What do you mean?” Baekhyun asked, pushing himself off the desk so he was standing almost eye-to-eye with Chanyeol.

“You lead me on into thinking you were—were _interested_ in me, and then you go and treat Jongdae the same! Does that mean nothing to you?” Chanyeol countered vehemently, his voice growing hoarse as it rose in timbre.

Baekhyun apparently didn’t quite know what to say to that. Throwing his hands up in the air, he said, “what do you want me to say? That flirting is like a sport to me? That I enjoy it? It’s superficial, Chanyeol. It doesn’t mean anything!”

“Oh, so your behaviour towards me was also just ‘superficial’?” Chanyeol asked, taken aback.

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn to explode. “No!” he exclaimed. “Because I wasn’t just _flirting_ with you, Chanyeol! There’s a difference between flirting and buying someone _lunch_. That’s where things go into making-a-move territory!”

“Well then why would you even make a move on me in the first place?”

“… Because you’re my type, okay?” Baekhyun ran a hand through his hair, seemingly exasperated.

That made Chanyeol snort. “What, ‘tall and awkward’?” he asked, tone sardonic. “And what about your wife? I’m sure she didn’t exactly fit my profil—”

Chanyeol’s tirade was cut off by Baekhyun storming forwards, almost colliding with him as he shoved Chanyeol against his desk.

“No, Chanyeol! It’s not because of that,” he said, that stormy look finally gone from his eyes as he stared up at Chanyeol. “It’s because you’re fucking cute, okay? _That’s_ my type. I don’t care how monstrously tall you are.” There was a smile tugging at his lips, and suddenly it dawned on Chanyeol just how close they were.

“O-oh…” he managed, awkwardly angling his head down to peer at the other man. “Thanks…” The word came out as more of a question though as he searched Baekhyun’s face for any possible trace of a lie. Despite his best efforts, however, there was none to be found, and as Baekhyun drew closer, bracing a bold hand on Chanyeol’s hip, Chanyeol couldn’t find any fault in leaning in, his eyes fluttering shut as Baekhyun drew so close that their lips were almost touching—

“Hey, are you losers done yet? The caretaker just tried to kick me out,” Amber exclaimed indignantly as she walked into the classroom. The two teachers hastily broke apart, Baekhyun immediately grabbing his satchel off the desk he’d left it on and plastering his best fake smile on his face, saying, “well, I guess we should get the hell out of here, then,” to which Amber agreed, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel a faint twinge of satisfaction at the blush spreading down Baekhyun’s neck as he followed along after them.


End file.
